Failing Hope
by Pinto
Summary: When Will revealed himself to Barbossa in order to save Elizabeth, he soon found out that all he sacrificed was in vain. Now, with his own life on the line, will he be able to come to grips with the hand he's been given?
1. Default Chapter

Author's Note – Okay, my first order of business is that I *know* that the dialogue is not correctly taken from the movie.  I had only seen it once and I cannot remember who said what exactly.  I also took the artistic liberty of switching the order of several (minor) events around so that I would be able to keep this story down within the boundaries of novelistic proportion.  I only intended on this being a short two or three chapter anyhow.  So that is my warning that this will not be word for word from the movie.  My apologies, savvy?  Anyway, enjoy!

**Failing Hope**

A Pirates of the Caribbean Fan-fiction

Written by: Pinto

Will stared in horror as the figure of Elizabeth Swann disappeared off the end of the gangplank.  Enraged, he surged forward, only to be stopped by several rough hands, pulling him back.  "You lying bastard!  You swore she'd go free!" His voice raised in accusation, threatening to crack with the sheer, overpowering emotion.  "What about our deal?!"

The tall form of Barbossa slowly turned to face the furious shout of the young man.  A smug smile seemed permanently ingrained into his features.  The captain of the Black Pearl strode forward easily, meeting the fiery eyes of his captive.  "Don't dare impugn me honor, boy. I agreed she'd go free. It was you who failed to specify when or where." Barbossa's dark eyes flickered up to several men, silently instructing them.

Will Turner struggled to respond, but struck dumb by the cursed Captain's logic he could not reply.  Suddenly a thick rag was brought around his face, jerking his head back.  He choked and gagged as the material was forced into his mouth, effectively acting as a gag.  The tight grip on his shoulders stayed and he jerked his shoulders back and forth, hoping desperately to shake loose the hands that held him immobile.  

Barbossa's smile only broadened at the struggles of Bill Bootstrap's only son.  "Feisty whelp."  He reached forward, roughly patting his hand against the side of the young man's face.  Will instinctively jerked away, the consequences of his earlier actions starting to sink in.  He had not saved Elizabeth – he had merely condemned her to die on a forsaken island.  He paused in mid-thought, realizing even more depressing information.  Not only had he given her that sentence, she was doomed to be trapped with Jack Sparrow on that island.  He closed his eyes briefly, his heart sinking even lower – something he had previously thought impossible.

A sudden wave of despair crashed over Will and before he knew what he was doing, he flung himself forward.  An unintelligible cry broke through the muffling power of the gag as he threw himself ahead.  Maybe he could reach the gangplank and cast himself over.  He would probably drown, a rational part of his mind reminded him, but he no longer cared.  That would be better than simply giving in and abandoning Elizabeth altogether. 

Not expecting the sudden burst, surprised hands loosened their grip and Will stumbled forward, trying to regain his balance without the use of his hands, which had been tightly bound with rope.

Another hand grabbed him, roughly yanking him up by entwining his hand in the loose material of Will's shirt.  With experienced speed, the dark haired young man found a jagged knife pressed against his neck, threatening to break the vulnerable skin.

"You want to die earlier than planned, rat?" A dirty, growling voice hissed into his ear.  Filthy fingernails jerked roughly against the cloth gag in his mouth, snapping Will's head back.  A moment later, it floated loosely to the wooden deck of the ship.

Will took in a ragged gasping breath, feeling the sharp sting of the steel against his neck.  "I do not care." He ground out between clenched teeth.  His dark hair worked itself loose of its binder and blew carelessly around his face.  Another sobbing gasp escaped him.  "I do not care." He repeated, this time his voice soft, broken.

By this time, Barbossa caught up with Will.  He directed his angry gaze at the crewmember that held the younger man.  "Not a _drop_ of his blood will be spilled, do you understand?" His voice was painfully sharp, but he hesitated and looked at Will once more.  A cold smile crossed his face once again.  "Not yet anyhow."

Sensing that the captain's last comment was directed at him, Will lifted his head.  He stared frigidly at Borbossa even as the knife drew away from his neck.  "My father was right in standing up against you.  You deserve this curse and you deserve to burn in hell." He spoke the words evenly, sharply contrasting his earlier near breakdown.

  Barbossa stared at the boy, darkness clouding over his features at the reprimand like the building of thunderheads before the unleashing of a storm.  His hand whipped forward, gripping Will's chin in a vise-like hold, forcing him to look the captain straight in the eyes.  "Speak nothing of hell, lad.  You could not even comprehend the gruesomeness of what I've seen or the horrors that I've felt."  He paused, bringing his own face within inches of the young blacksmith's own face.  His voice lowered and he spoke now in a near growl.  "But before the end has come, you will believe that you have."

Pulling away from Will, Barbossa released his tight grip from the younger man's face and shoved his head down.  His eyes studied the blacksmith's features.  The ragged, white shirt that still was dripping with the salty ocean water, the dark, slightly curled hair that fell around his face – it all reminded him of Bootstrap Bill.  It should figure that his damn kid would look just like him. 

The only sound that broke the silence besieging the Black Pearl was that of the crash of the ocean waves against the wood paneling of the ship's side.  The morose cry of a gull echoed on the empty winds.  Barbossa surveyed his crew, noting the uncertain hush that had befallen.  The captain quickly and rudely broke the silence with his own throaty laugh. "There will be no more glum faces, mates, for by nightfall the curse will be ended by the blood of Turner's son.  We will live again!"

A loud and enthusiastic cheer erupted from the crew.  Will looked up again, his eyes settling on the blood-eager faces of all those surrounding him.  The group had closed in closer around him, making the younger man's stomach twist up into a cold, metal knot.  What had he condemned himself to?  Maybe Jack was right; all that he had managed to do so far was stupid.  His current predicament seemed to top the list of stupid things he had said or done, which was impressive when one considered the amount of material that Will had already provided.

Captain Barbossa laughed heartily at the wild shouting of his disheveled crew.  With a single hand he calmed the noise down to a slow murmur and faces turned up to him, waiting to hear what he would say next.  "We approach the Isla de la Muerta.  This time no chances will be taken." He paused, he gaze settling on Will Turner.  "Take him below and lock him up.  Give him his own cell – he will not be with Jack Sparrow's pathetic crew."

The filthy pirate behind Will answered with commendable enthusiasm.  "Aye, Captain, the boy will get his own personal suite." This elicited a raspy laugh from the man's throat.  Will winced, as a gun was jammed roughly into his side and pressed painfully against his ribs.  "C'mon kid, let's go for a walk."

Encouraged forward by the rough handling, the blacksmith stumbled ahead, valiantly trying to pay no heed to the mocking jeers and ridicule that the crew of the Black Pearl threw into his face.  His face contorted into disgust as one of the particularly more vile crewmembers spit into his face.  However, with his hands bound firmly behind him and a pistol rammed into his side, there was very little that he could do in order to save face.  He strained to keep his head high and made an effort to keep his pride and honor intact.

Soon he found himself rudely pushed down below deck.  The steps were damp and some covered with the slippery casing of mold.  They creaked uncertainly under his movement and Will began to fear that soon one would collapse entirely beneath his weight.  The smell of stagnant seawater ruthlessly invaded his senses; it smelled of rotting fish and decaying wood.  

"C'mon boy, keep walkin'.  I ain't going to lead ya by your hand down 'ere." The pirate behind Will emphasized in irritation.  He gave the young man another forceful push, encouraging Will to increase his pace.

As they descended further into the bowels of the old ship, light grew increasingly scarce.  Will could no longer even see where the steps led.  He was simply trusting that they would be there for each step that he took.  Concern began to settle deeply into Will's core as they reached the bottom of the steps.  There was hardly any light down in the depths of the ship and the sound of water pressing against the vessel's sides was distinctly unnerving.  The guttural groans of the old lumber were unmistakable and a claustrophobic sensation crept into his mind.  His pulse was noticeably faster and Will was struggling not to make strangled gasps for air. 

Despite the blacksmith's attempts to hide his palpable discomfort, the brigand behind him easily detected the dark-haired youth's uneasiness.  "Ye can feel the sea, can't ya?  She's jus' tryin' to break into the Pearl.  You'd be dead before ya could even think about gettin' away." The man's grip tightened considerably on Will's shoulder, causing the younger man to wince.  "It's an ugly way t'die, drownin' is." He turned his own body so that he looked toward the blacksmith.  A grin displaying his mixture of rotting and golden teeth lit his face.  "I wouldn't know f'sure in th'matter, but I'm sure yer father could tell ya much more."

Will had nothing to say in response to the pirate's goading.  Words could no longer do him any good.  He stumbled forward as the man behind him gave him one last decisive shove.  The blacksmith crumpled to his knees and was unable to catch himself with his bound hands.  He immediately realized that the water from the sea had seeped into the ship.  More appropriately, he thought sardonically, it had poured in.  Balancing on his knees, the water already soaked him halfway up his thighs.  

A vehement metal clang claimed Will's attention, and he swung his head quickly to look behind him.  He had been shoved into a small cell and the pirate that had pushed him in had simply swung the door shut, locking the blacksmith in.  Struggling back to his feet, Will stumbled to the locked door.

"'ave an enjoyable stay, kid." The grubby pirate chortled. "It's gonna be your last."  He banged a hand against the barred cage in mockery.  

Will ground his teeth together fiercely, keeping his jaw taut and refusing to answer the provocations of the pirate.  He stared at the other man with steely dark eyes, fire nearly leaping from their depths.  His eyes never left the pirate as he turned and left the below deck area, whistling some old pirate tune.  Once he disappeared from the stairs and returned on deck, Will forcefully slammed his bound hands against the cage that he found himself trapped.

"Will?" A female voice, albeit rough sounding, inquired.

  Caught off guard, the young blacksmith jerked back, his gaze settling on the row of cells across from him.  Within one small area no larger than his own enclosure, Jack Sparrow's entire crew was shoved together.  Will narrowed his eyes, trying to see through the darkness better.

"Anamarie?" 

"Aye, lad, 'tis Anamarie!  Are you all right?" She spoke a little louder now, and Will could see her muscling her way through the masses of her male counterparts.

Pausing before answering, Will allowed his head to fall forward and he rested his forehead on the cool bars of his cell.  "It depends on your definition of all right." He muttered hopelessly.  "It's over.  I've messed everything up."  He closed his eyes again, relishing the self-induced darkness.

"Shh now.  Don't be takin' that sort of attitude jus' yet." Anamarie easily could see Bootstrap Bill's son was on the verge of giving up completely.  

Will lifted his head heavily and stared across the passage into the prison of the other pirates.  "I didn't save Jack or Elizabeth, I obviously did very little to help all of your situations, and in the whole process, I managed to damn myself.  Please, tell me how that is not messing things up."

The rough, dark-skinned female raised an eyebrow as the young blacksmith proceeded to list everything that he believed to be his doing.  "Well lad, it seems as though you worked up quite a list fer yourself.  How long have you been thinkin' about that?"

The dark haired man let his head fall back onto the prison bars.  "My entire life." He muttered miserably as he closed his eyes once again.  "No matter how hard I try to make things go right, somehow they always manage to rebound right into my face."

Anamarie sighed, letting her arms dangle down through the spaces in-between the bars of their prison.  "I don' know about that, but right now is _not_ a good time ta be questionin' life choices." She set her lips in a fine line when she saw that Will still sat with his head resting against the metal poles.  Obviously, he was not too keen on escaping at the moment.  The attitude that she detected from him only served to irritate her even more.  She launched her foot forward and violently kicked the door to her crew's cell.

Will's head snapped up at the sudden crash of metal.  He blinked in confusion when he saw the irate face of Anamarie.  "Listen 'ere now, Will!  You ain't jus' gonna give everything up like that!  Ain't ya even gonna try?"

The blacksmith shook his head regretfully and backed away from the front of the cell.  "I've had enough of trying.  All my life I've tried and it has gotten me nowhere." His back hit the furthest back part of his cage and he leaned up against it, slowly sinking down to the water-covered floor.  He didn't care.  "I've had enough." He brought his secured hands up to his face and leaned his forehead against them, letting himself drop away into oblivion. 

**TBC**


	2. Chapter Two

Author's Note: _A great big thanks to everyone who reviewed, although I am slightly perturbed to note that Fanfiction.net took the liberty of deleting a majority of them.  *forced smile* Thanks a million, ff.net!  So to everyone who reviewed, thanks again, even though I can't respond to many of them because I no longer have them.  So please, just to spite this site, feel free to leave a review for this chapter too!  ;-)_

Disclaimer: Don't own them quite yet.  I am still waiting for pending response from Disney in regards to my acquisition of Will Turner and Jack Sparrow for my very own.  Ahem.  _Captain_ Jack Sparrow, I mean, of course.

Let us now continue with the ever-growing saga:

**Failing Hope**

"The last we saw of ol' Bill Turner, he was sinking to the black oblivion of Davy Jone's Locker.  'Course it was only after that we knew we needed his blood to lift the curse." Pintel mused, glancing away from the figure of Will Turner in the dark brig.  

            "That's what you call ironic." Ragetti helpfully added, earning an irritated glance from the other pirate.

            Will had stood up once again, forcing himself out of the dark self-imprisonment that he had placed upon himself.  He had boldly inquired information regarding his father to the two pirates that had descended below deck to mop and had received said-information quite readily.

            Across the way, Gibbs looked annoyed with the pirates' recollection of Bill Turner.  He had managed to keep his comments down to a few annoyed remarks that Pintel and Ragetti had effortlessly ignored. 

            Will snapped out of his reverie when the heavy footsteps of Captain Barbossa resounded down the ship's rickety staircase.  The blacksmith's dark eyes locked on to the large form of the cursed pirate, but Will remained silent, unwilling to speak to the one who had betrayed him so deeply.  

              Barbossa stopped several feet away from the brig that held Turner's son and studied him intently for several moments.  He finally spoke as he heftily tossed the large ring of keys to Pintel.  "Bring him."  With that simple command, he turned and went back to the deck above, leaving Will in the hands of his two underlings.

            Instinctively, Will's muscles tensed as the two dirty pirates struggled with the keys to his cell.  He may have messed up everything else, but he blatantly refused to go down without a fight.  Barbossa's damned crew would have to earn his blood.

            "Would ya 'urry it up a bit?" Pintel grumbled to his counterpart, who at the moment was struggling to get the key to open the barred cell that contained Will.  "Barbossa don't like waitin'." 

            Ragetti glanced up irritably at the other pirate, ceasing his efforts at unlocking the cell door.  "Do you really think I don't know that?  All of these cursed keys look the same." He looked back down and continued to try to force each key into the lock.

            "Actually," Anamarie began from the other cell, hoping to distract the two men for a few moments, "I don't believe it's the keys that're cursed, hearties.  That'd be you." A smug smile was on her face and roguish glimmer could be seen in her eyes under the scant lighting.

            Ragetti stopped working once more and slowly straightened up, turning to face the still-beaming Anamarie.  "Speakin' is not a good idea for you, girlie.  Women is nothin' but bad luck on a ship.  Specially mouthy broads like you.  I think we should 'ave tossed her overboard right away."

            Rolling his eyes, Pintel cuffed the fuming pirate on the head with a dirty hand.  "Ignore her.  She's nothin' but hot air.  Get Turner's cell unlocked."

            At this comment, Anamarie's grin only widened.  "That's right, ignore the woman.  I'm sure you all 'ave more important things t'do anyhow." 

            "Bloody hell…" Ragetti cursed, glaring at the sole woman on board.  "Don't ya never shut up?"

            Looking toward the ceiling, Anamarie feigned to think for a moment.  Her eyes slowly traveled back down and she raised a single eyebrow as she looked directly at the two pirates who were rapidly growing more irritated.  "Well," She began, lowering her voice to a deeper register, "normally I don't talk quite this much, but ya see…" She paused, looking around suspiciously, as though some unknown spy were listening.  She motioned with her hand for Pintel and Ragetti to come closer.   With a sigh, the two shuffled over to where Anamarie was looking positively mad. 

            "Ya see…" She began again, trailing off, her eyes growing intensely serious.  "There's a secret.  Somethin' even ol' Barbossa don' know."

            With a disgusted snort, Pintel started to move back across the way.  "She's bluffin'.  She don' know anything."

            Ragetti, however, did not seem to be quite as sure on that assumption.  "Are ya sure?  She sounds serious."  He glanced nervously at Anamarie who now plastered a crazy, toothy grin on her face.  It reminded Will vaguely of Jack Sparrow's own mad grin.

            "'Tis your own doom, mates." She finally muttered, flipping her hand back casually.  "Jus' thought that good pirates like yerselves should be privy to this information."

            Sighing, Pintel turned back to fully face the dark skinned woman.  "Fine.  What 'tis it then?  Speak quickly; we ain't got the time to listen to ye."  A twisted mix of morbid curiosity and unabashed annoyance decorated the pirate's grubby face.

            At this point in time, not only was Anamarie getting stares from the two pirates, but from her entire crew and also a fantastically bewildered Will Turner.  She flashed yet another grin, causing the young blacksmith seriously to begin to question her sanity.  He had always heard stories of the madness that the sea could sometimes wreck upon people, both sailors and pirates alike.  Part of Will's theory regarding the demeanor Captain Jack Sparrow was based on that notion. 

            Motioning the two pirates closer still, she began to speak.  "I would be careful if I were you." Her dark eyes clouded in seriousness.  "From one pirate t'another I'm warning ya."

            Ragetti jangled the keys in his hand, rubbing at his wooden eye absently.  "That's no secret." Will could almost detect a bit of disappointment in his tone.  Pintel glanced at his counterpart for a moment before turning back to Anamarie.

            She smiled once more.  "Of course it wasn't.  The secret is that Jack Sparrow will be there, mates.  It'd be in yer best interest to avoid this."  Will, who had let his head drop once more, suddenly snapped it back up and stared intensely at the woman in the cell across from him.  How could she know so surely of that?  He was stranded on that island…with Elizabeth.  The blacksmith quickly shut his eyes, trying to block that thought out of his head.  Elizabeth was a smart woman – she would figure a way off the god-forsaken land, he just knew it. 

            Pintel took the opportunity to laugh heartily at that statement.  "Jack Sparrow ain't gonna be anywhere near here, lassie.  He's still on a….extended leave, I suppose ya could say." 

            Ragetti laughed appreciatively at the other man's comment.  "Yeah, extended leave." This followed with more inane giggles.

            Surprisingly, Anamarie laughed along with the two scraggly pirates for several moments, waiting until their laughter died down.  Her smile never faded and her gaze never wavered from their faces.  "You forget one thing, mates.  He's Captain Jack Sparrow."

            The amused grins on the two pirates' faces momentarily faltered as they comprehended the statement.  Pintel stammered for a few seconds, searching for words before quickly spitting out, "Women is just bad luck on ships."  He quickly turned back to Will's cell and cuffed Ragetti on the head.  "Now get 'im out of there.  He's got some blood to spill on good 'ol Bootstrap's behalf."

            This time Will did not recoil away from the two men but stared steely-eyed at them.  _They might take my life, but they will **never** take away my honor_.  He took the effort to steel his jaw and show no sign of weakness.  Inside, Anamarie's comment was eating away at his mind.  What did she mean?  Was she just wasting time and trying to distract Barbossa's lackeys?  He hated the feeling of creeping hope that was starting to emerge.  Deep down, he knew that his life would end at this island, and the elated optimism that was trying to surface would only make this more difficult.

            With an echoing clink, Ragetti successfully discovered the correct key to open Will Turner's cell.  With an obstinate creak, the door swung open.  Before Will could even consider a method of escape, however, both pirates had blocked the brig door with their bodies, destroying any chance of flight.

            _Where would you go, even if you could escape? The sensible part of his mind drilled him, making the bleak situation look even grimmer.  _You're___ on a bloody island that no one can find.  Once again, frustration filled his being._

            "C'mon boy, we 'aven't got forever." The young blacksmith was jerked from his thoughts by the rough handling of Pintel.  The pirate grabbed his forearms and yanked him forward, causing him to stagger slightly.  Will took the time to spare the straggly, gray-bearded pirate an irritated glare.

            A chortle fell from Pintel's mouth when he saw the heated look that the young Turner gave him.  "Ya know, that was the same look that ol' Bootstrap gave us right before we threw him and the cannon into Davey Jones Locker."  Ragetti nodded in agreement, an amused grin displaying his rotten teeth.

            The pirate's grip on Will's arm grew tighter and the young blacksmith adamantly refused to show any sign of discomfort and instead stared steadily at the one who held him.  Pintel ignored the continuing scathing look that his captive aimed at him and instead looked critically at the ropes around the young man's wrists.  "This ain't going to work." He looked over to Ragetti who eagerly drew a knife from his boot.

            Will's dark eyebrows lowered and he glanced at the two perplexedly.  With a quickly slash, he immediately felt the burning pressure of the coarse ropes release their hold on his wrists.  In a single motion, the same knife that released his hands from their ropes was at his throat.  Not daring to move his head, Will's dark eyes clouded over in anger.  He was sick of this.  

            As quickly as the freedom of motion had returned to his limbs, it was just as swiftly whisked away.  Ragetti held the dagger lightly against the young man's throat, restricting him to doing much more than breathing, although Will desperately wished he could cringe away from the foul smell that the pirate emitted from such a close range.  Taking advantage of the blacksmith's immobility, Pintel wrenched Will's arms behind his back and rebound his wrists, even tighter than before, something that Will thought highly improbable.

            Only after the dark-haired man was once again restrained did Ragetti regretfully remove the sharp edge of the knife from his throat.  Pintel stepped back, tightly grabbing the blacksmith's shoulder with a brawny grip.  "Ye'll have less smart ideas without your hands in yer sight, lad." 

            With a resolute push, Pintel forced Will from the small brig, a smile on his filthy face.  "Time for a long-overdue debt to be paid, me boy."  

**TBC**

To the two reviews that were amazingly not eaten by the gluttonous FF.net – 

**Melanie2** – Thanks for the great review, and for pointing out that error to me!  I love it when people actually give me feedback that helps…it's an amazing thing!  :D  Thanks again.

**Nikki **– Yep, no worries, there'll be more chapters!  Seeing as that I am totally incapable of focusing on one story at a time, I usually am not one of those people who update every other day.  I tend to be a bit more sporadic.  At the rate I'm going, my LotR story should be finished sometime about when Return of the King comes out on DVD.  Eep.  Anyhow, thanks again!  


	3. Chapter Three

**Author's Note: **A huge thanks, firstly, to all those who reviewed.  You really encouraged me to get this chapter out quite quickly.  Not to mention encouraged me to make this story quite a bit longer than what I originally intended!  :)  It was meant really, to be no more than two chapters, but seeing as people have enjoyed it, I'll extend it a bit.  Review responses are at the bottom.  Secondly, I have found a site that has the script on it, so the dialogue taken from the movie should be close to correct.  I hope you all enjoy!  And please let me know if I'm still doing all right in a review. I'd much appreciate it!

**Disclaimer** – I own nothing of Pirates of the Caribbean.  If I did, do you honestly think that I would be sitting around writing fan-fiction about it?  *pause*  Okay, so I probably would, but that's defeating my point.  The day that I own Jack Sparrow and Will Turner, you will probably hear my shouts of glee all the way in Siberia.  Point taken?  Good.

**Failing Hope**

Chapter Three

Staring blankly ahead, Will numbly absorbed his surroundings with an ethereal detachment.  The soft, but still harshly rough whispers of the Black Pearl's crew were the only sounds breaking the silence of the menacing depths of the cavern entrance.  The young blacksmith noted dully that the cave's mouth looked somewhat like a yawning beast, ready to devour whatever came its way.

            Will Turner sat in a small rowboat, surrounded by several of the cursed pirates and Barbossa, who was stationed at the small vessel's front.  Other boats followed behind in a shadowy procession.  The dark-haired young man glanced down into the black waters and could once again see the brief glimmers of the sunken gold that lay on the water's bottom, accented by the flickering light of the occasional torches carried by Barbossa's crew.  He could still remember Jack's words the last time they had come through this cave.  

            _"…and you're completely obsessed with treasure." Jack commented coolly, noting how Will's eyes had widened at the sight of the glittering gold that littered the bottom of the canal._

_            "That's not true.  I'm not obsessed with treasure." The younger man had spoken with a quick tongue in defense of himself.  He was not desperate for the hoard that lay in these caves.  The large amount of sparkling gold and silver had simply caught him off his guard._

_            Jack hopped from their small boat onto the shoreline and continued moving ahead, not stopping to comment on Will's defense.  The blacksmith had scrambled along, trying to keep up with the pirate's quick pace.  He was surprised that Jack had not even replied, but he continued onward, following him as he crawled up along a stone crevice that allowed sight further into the cave.  Once he peered through the narrow space, he felt his jaw go slack when he took in the sight below.  They had __Elizabeth__._

_            It was now that Jack chose to look back at Will, and a small smirk grew on his face.  "Not all treasure is silver and gold, mate." The words, unlike most of what Jack spoke, were surprisingly sincere, and Will simply looked at the pirate with mystification, unsure of how to respond to such an observation.  Perhaps there was far more to Jack Sparrow than most cared to see._

            In an attempt to suppress the self-loathing that was threatening to surface, Will roughly ground his teeth together.  He could not even save his own treasure, even though it was neither gold nor silver.  Bloody good pirate he would make.  If it were not for the fact that his hands were tightly bound behind his back, Will would have been tempted to whack himself alongside the head several times.

            The oars that had been slicing smoothly through the murky waters were quickly abandoned with a hollow clatter as they struck the hard surface of the damp rocks that indicated the shoreline.  Will snapped his head up, realizing that they had made it inside the depths of the cavern and were nearing Cortez's gold.  They neared where his life would end, where everything he had worked for in his life would prove in vain. 

            "C'mon ya dogs, t'hour is upon us!" Barbossa stood up, climbing onto the stony foundations of the ground.  His intimidating form was silhouetted by the dim gleam of gold that came from deeper within the cavern.  Will stared up at him, refusing to move until he was forcible removed.  His extraordinarily obstinate trait kicked in at this point and he settled himself deeply as possible onto the wooden plank that served as his seat.

            Noticing that the blacksmith was not attempting to move, Barbossa's hulking first mate turned back and looked at him menacingly. "Move, boy." The deep, gravelly voice of Bo'sun gave no room for options, but Will chose to ignore the threatening timbre of the large man's command.  Instead, he lowered his head slightly, setting his chin firmly.  He would show them no fear – they would not have the pleasure of seeing his dread.

            The dark-skinned man's eyes widened and his nostrils flared in indignation when he realized that the Turner boy was purposely defying him.  Nobody took his commands as requests.  Nobody.  He lowered himself back down into the boat, coming face to face with the blacksmith who still sat resolutely in the small craft.  Without warning, he reached forward, tightly seizing the light-skinned youth's face in one large hand.  He rigidly squeezed his fingers together and lifted up, forcing the young Turner to look him eye to eye.  

            Will nearly gasped when Bo'sun took his face into a vice-like grip.  He could almost feel the bruises forming on his face where the large fingers were digging into the tender skin.  Will stared into the cold void of the massive pirate's eyes, an involuntary shiver racing down his spine.  There was nothing in his eyes.  In Elizabeth's eyes, he could always see the bright spark of life.  Even Jack held a certain gleam in his eyes.  It shocked him to discover that there was nothing of the sort in Bo'sun's eyes.  It felt as though Will was staring into an endless chasm that eagerly devoured any light that dared wander near.

            "Ya don' want me ta get violent, brat.  Get up." A frigid edge frosted his words.  After staring Will down for several more seconds, he released his face and straightened up. "Now."

            Slowly, Will rose to his feet in a robotic motion.  He was still startled with the emptiness that he had seen in the large pirate's eyes.  The blacksmith's own mahogany eyes darted about, looking at all those who surrounded him.  Nothing but desperation and hollowness was all around him and its total control threatened to overwhelm his own soul.  

            Finally, Will's gaze ended at Barbossa, who stood watching the interaction between Bo'sun and him.  A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, clearly indicating that he had been entertained by the interaction.  "I'm please t'see that ya understand us now, Turner.  We 'ave nothin' to lose – ya can't win."

            Keeping his firm glare, Will dared to answer the captain of the Black Pearl.  "You should know by now, Barbossa, that I have nothing to loose anymore either." 

            The small smirk wavered on the weathered face of the determined Barbossa.  His eyes narrowed at the contemptuous remark of Bootstrap's son.  "Ya never had nothin' to gain, lad.  Yer destiny was sealed th'day your father sent ya the gold."

            Fire coursed through Will's veins at that comment.  "He did it to make sure you all remained cursed, as you deserved!  He never did it to hurt me – he wouldn't do that." His voice lowered to an insulted hiss by the time he finished speaking.  

            As Will's voice rang through the caverns, Barbossa's increased amusement was evident on his face.  He could see that he had struck a rather raw nerve on Turner's son.  "There's a lot you don' know about yer father, boy.  I wouldn't place so much hope in 'im." Without allowing Will a chance to process this information, Barbossa quickly barked out orders.  "Let's go.  Bring the boy." 

            All the crew quickly hopped into action at their captain's command.  Will was hastily hustled through the dark, damp caverns.  Footsteps echoed through the dank emptiness and the pirates' voices resonated like the whispers of wraiths in the blackness.   Several times, he stumbled, unable to see where he was walking, only to be immediately righted by the overpowering hand of Bo'sun, who followed directly behind him.  

            A defeated sigh escaped the young blacksmith's lips as he trudged along the dim pathways.  _At least _Elizabeth___ will have a chance.  A small voice in his mind seemed to be attempting to pull the rest of him out of the threatening despair that loomed.  __You did say that you would die for her after all.  Intrigued by that point, Will pondered it for a minute.  Yes, he had said that, hadn't he?   _

            "And I still mean it." This time, the dark-haired smithy spoke aloud, unsure himself whether the words that he said out loud were purposely spoken.  The beginnings of a smile lifted some of the darkness from his face.  _She's__ worth it.  She always was.  _

            "What'd you say, brat?" The deep, gruff voice of Bo'sun barked from behind him.  Will had spoken loud enough to be heard, but not quite at a volume where it was understandable.

            Filled with a new sense of meaning and realization, Will boldly stopped and turned around to face the large black man that towered over him.  "I said," He spoke crisply, staring up at the substantially larger pirate, "I hope you go to hell."  

            Unfortunately, Will had very little time to relish the sense of satisfaction that came with speaking the words.  Seconds later, he found himself on his knees, gasping for his breath and somewhat at a loss as to how he came into this particular situation.  When the sound of loudly cracking knuckles echoed through the spacious caverns, the blacksmith quickly concluded that he had been leveled by Bo'sun's fist, which would also explain the extraordinarily difficult time he was having with breathing. 

            "Ya know, young Will Turner, you could save yerself much of this pain if ye didn't resist so much." The sound of Barbossa's voice encouraged Will to lift his head.  The dark locks of hair covered some of his vision, but he could see the Black Pearl's captain looking down at him.  

            Will pushed himself off his hands, not liking the feeling of vulnerability that the position exposed.  His wrists ached with the tension of the tight rope that bound them together.  He shook his head quickly, tossing his hair away from his eyes.  His breath still came in shallow gasps as his stomach rebelled against the rough treatment that it had gone through.  "I would go through the pain one hundred times over if it would mean making your lives miserable." The words had a sharp bite to them, and the previously amused pirates began to grow more agitated with the amount of derision that their blood debt was providing. 

            A silence overtook the caverns, interrupted only by the melodic water that dripped sporadically onto the wet stone ground.  Several of the cursed pirates glanced back and forth between one another, waiting anxiously to see what Barbossa would do in response to Bootstrap's son's comments.  Ragetti and Pintel shuffled quietly up the line of pirates, curious to see what would take place.

            "Barbossa's goin'ta kill 'im." Ragetti whispered to his counterpart, seeming to be caught somewhere between pity and complete amusement.

            At his friend's prediction, Pintel rolled his eyes, wondering to the heathen gods why he continued to stay around his slow-witted friend.  "Now that wouldn't make much sense, would it?  If we kill 'im now, the curse'll never be lifted." His voice was just as low as the other pirate's was, but the sarcasm remained remarkably strong.

            "Well, I was jus' sayin'." The lighter haired brigand muttered, quickly catching onto his friend's cynicism.  "No need t'get agitated." He rubbed his wooden eye, a nervous habit that had existed for long before the curse was ever laid upon them.

            "Shut up, Barbossa's talkin'!" Pintel growled, glaring at Ragetti, who still looked highly insulted.

            Will stared up at Barbossa's face, a sneer threatening to appear as built up frustration grew close to bursting through the internal dam that he had built to hold it back.  Surprisingly, the mutinous first mate of Jack Sparrow remained calm and he simply looked at the blacksmith on the cavern floor for several moments.  Then, to everyone's surprise, he began to laugh.  It began as a soft chuckle, but soon grew into a full-throated laugh.

            Barbossa shook his head with amusement.  "Will, ye shouldn't make pledges that ye can't keep." Will narrowed his eyes, unsure as to where this was going to go.  "I would gladly make ya go through the pain one hundred times, but unfortunately, we haven't the time fer such trivialities.  I would much rather spill yer blood and break this damned curse."

            A glance was thrown to Bo'sun and he pulled the still-kneeling Turner to his feet.  "There'll be no more interruptions.  Bo'sun will make sure of that." Barbossa had started moving further into the caves even as he spoke.  "Walk quickly, hearties."

            Will tensed as he heard a low chuckle behind him.  His stomach instantly disputed the thought of having to endure another round of usage as the pirate's punching bag.  Slowly, the adrenaline that had sustained the blacksmith for the past fifteen minutes began to drain from his body, leaving him feeling empty and cold.  

            _I imagine that Jack would have classified that as doing something stupid. Will considered what he had just done.  What exactly had he accomplished?  Entertaining Barbossa?  He let his head drop to his chest and his hair fell into his eyes again.  _Why can't I do anything right?__

            Both Ragetti and Pintel had moved alongside Will at this point, and Pintel saw the hopelessness in the younger man's eyes.  "No reason to fret, it's just a prick of the finger and a few drops of blood." 

            Will lifted his head and stared at the curly-haired pirate blankly for a second before being hurried along, leaving both of Ragetti and Pintel behind.  

            Another pirate followed closely behind Will Turner and he glanced at Pintel.  "No mistakes this time.  He's only half-Turner.  We spill it all."  

            Shrugging, Pintel turned to Ragetti.  "Guess there is reason to fret." 

            The other pirate chortled appreciatively as they continued to make their way to where the cursed Aztec gold lay.  The place where Will's blood would soon be spilt.   

**TBC**

Reviewer Responses:

**Sseatle** – Huzzah!  FF.net didn't eat your review this time!  I'm glad you like the story and I really appreciate the time you took to review.  Hopefully this chapter works out for you!  =)

**Stephanie – Lou** – I hope this counts as updating soon enough for you!  I really pounded away at this chapter, lol.

**Toria** – I always thought Will would have the most interesting inner-turmoil.  (Outside of Jack, of course, but I'd have to be bloody crazy to try and figure out how his mind would work!) Thanks!

**Ildera** – Can *I* say wow for the fantastic review?  I absolutely love getting long reviews like that and I'm really pleased to hear that everyone in your house liked the story!   As for right now, I have no idea exactly how long I plan on making this…we'll see how long it takes before my inspiration runs out!  :P  Thanks!

**Missy** – Yay, I'm happy you liked it!  I've noticed that there aren't an abundance of fics out there that *really* focus on Will.  They have a tendency to be shallow sometimes if they are, so I thought to give it a try myself.  I think Will is a fascinating character, really!

**Poetry in Motion** – Heh.  I always wonder what happens in-between scenes too, so I guess what else could I do but figure it out for myself?  They could have turned it into a four and a half hour movie if they had really wanted to…there was so much that was left unsaid.  Thanks for reading!

**Emerald Dragon4** – Thanks.  Is this update quick enough for you?  =)

**Leolyn**** Greenleaf – Aww, thanks a lot!  I plan on keeping writing, lol, so don't worry!**

**Carrie5** – Thank you a million for the energetic review!  I really tried to get this out as fast as I could, so I hope it continues to have the depth that you liked before!  And I am rooting for Will too, even though it doesn't seem like it sometimes! ;)  LOL! 

One more big thank you to everyone!  Gracias!


	4. Chapter Four

**Author's Note:** Woah.  Another chapter this soon?  *feels own forehead* Am I sick?  I _never_ update this often!  *shrugs* Oh well, all the better, I suppose!  The crazy thing is that I wrote most of this in one sitting last night, so to have it finished and ready to go is just bizarre.  Perhaps I've overcome my perpetual writer's block?  Could I be so lucky?  Anyway, look forward to more Will introspection and some good old fashion blood ritual ceremony!  Wee haw!  :D  Onto the Caribbean, maties!

Disclaimer – I still own absolutely nothing and make no money off my stories.  I am, however, working my way toward accepting the fact that I will never own my very own Will Turner or Jack Sparrow. *whimpers* 

**Failing Hope**

_Chapter Four_

Written by: Pinto 

A groan escaped an unsuspecting Will Turner as Bo'sun's large fist firmly connected with the young blacksmith's midsection.  Lacking the use of his arms, instinctively Will doubled over, gasping for breath for the second time in the past half hour.  His stomach was on fire from the ill-treatment.  His vision briefly blurred sending the already dim surroundings of the cave that harbored Cortez's cursed gold into a wild spin.  Will closed his eyes and focused on taking deep breaths in order to ignore the nausea that was plaguing him.  

            His thoughts were torn away from his misery when a rough hand tangled itself securely in his dark locks of hair, yanking him up to a slightly more upright position.  However, through the throbbing in his skull, Will noticed that he was still leaning down considerably.  Daring to open his eyes, the blacksmith was relieved to see that the caverns of Isla de la Muerta had kindly agreed to stop spinning.  On the darker side, as his dark eyes traveled down, Will could see that he was hovering just above the large stone chest that held all of the cursed Aztec gold.  It sparkled and shimmered merrily in mockery of his current situation.

            Slowly, Will's eyes traveled up and surveyed all those around him.  Down below the morbid pedestal on which he was held stood the rest of the crew.  A new spark was in their eyes – bloodlust.  Turner's son shuddered, a sudden gale of cold reality rushing into his face.  His life was at an end.  Internally, the blacksmith sighed.  This was not the way he had hoped to go out.  There was so much he wanted to do yet, so many things he wanted to experience before death led him away.  

All of his life Will had simply wanted to be accepted.  When Mr. Brown had taken him in as a blacksmith apprentice, Will had toiled endlessly, just hoping for a single word of encouragement or approval.  Instead, he received constant criticism about his work.  It never balanced just right, or the blade was too thin.  Sometimes the hilt's designs were not intricate enough and Mr. Brown would put the entire sword back into the fire and make Will start over again.  Therefore, when the Governor had been pleased with Will's work, it had taken all of his self-control not to break into a fool-faced grin and enthusiastically shake his hand.  It did not matter to Will that Elizabeth's father never knew that the work was not Mr. Brown's but his own.  What mattered was that someone cared.  

After his mother's death, Will had left for the Caribbean in hopes that he would find his father and for once in his life discover where he truly belonged.  Instead, he found himself taken into Port Royal, after the tragic ending of the ship he traveled on, and soon was slipping down into the cracks of the social hierarchy.  The only person who ever saw him for his sincere worth was Elizabeth and she was soon shut away into the world of the rich and refined, stifled in the strict rules of the well-bred life.  Only occasionally would Will catch a glimpse of her, but he lived for those moments.  He held on desperately to the loving light that reflected in her eyes, knowing that someone in the world cared if he lived or died.

Now that Will was staring death in the face, he wished that he could see Elizabeth's radiant face one last time.  He wanted to thank her for giving him warmth on the many days when he felt he was freezing in cold reality.  She had saved him from more than drowning so many years ago, but she never knew.  She never knew…

The daze that Will had slipped into was abruptly broken when the blacksmith felt the jagged edge of a yellowed, stone dagger rest against the far left side of his neck.  He closed his eyes tightly, deeply breathing in the humid, stale air, trying not to think of what would come next.  _I'm_ sorry Father._  He pleaded silently for forgiveness from one that he could not even remember.  __I did everything I could.  Please understand.  _

As the young smithy tried to clear his mind, a dark figure crept into the crowded area and began making his way forward through the tightly packed bodies of pirates.  Many broke away from the action on top of Cortez's chest to glance at the newcomer.  Jaws dropped in shocked recognition, unsure if their eyes dared to deceive them in the hazy light of the cave.

The new arrival waved an apology to a man that he pushed aside in order to move closer to Barbossa and Will.  "Beg your pardon." He regretfully stated, shooting the stunned man a gold grin.  

Will grimaced, as the knife pressed harder against his neck, stinging like salt in a wound.  Barbossa's voice echoed throughout the grottos, and Will forced himself to look impassive to what was happening.  Inside he was shaking like an autumn leaf caught in a strong wind.  His grip on the tree was slipping and there would be nothing there to catch him when he fell.  

"Begun by blood…" The words pounded their way into Will's skull, and no matter how hard he tried to ignore them they just grew louder.  His life had been spent mostly in solitude and so it would end the same.  He would die alone.  The dagger jerked slightly, grazing against the sensitive skin under Will's neck.  The blacksmith scarcely dared to breathe now.  

The newcomer continued to push his way through the crowds, his pace more hurried now that Barbossa had begun the blood ceremony.  He pushed two large pirates apart and squeezed through the area created by separating them.  "Excuse me." He dully added, not even bothering to glance back this time.  He was cutting it close, even by his terms, this time.  

The grin on Barbossa's face grew larger as he continued the ritual.  "By blood un-…"

Slowly opening his eyes, Will forced himself to face his fate like a man.  His eyes quickly focused on a figure that was not chanting and shouting like all of the others and he was quickly moving through the crowd.  Hope suddenly lit up his heart again.  "Jack!"  

At the sound of that name, Barbossa removed the knife from Will's neck, but the young man was forced to remain bowed down over the gold.  "S'not possible!" The Black Pearl's captain seemed to be caught somewhere between shock and disgust.

Jack smiled distantly, holding up a hand in objection.  "Not probable." He modestly corrected, slowly lowering his hand after making his point.  Bloody hell, he had to compliment himself on his timing.  He had arrived not a moment too soon, it seemed.

Will was finding it hard to breathe at this point.  Jack was alive and here at Isla de la Muerta, meaning he managed to escape the island.  That would mean Elizabeth was safe!  Unless Jack had left her there…but he wouldn't do that, would he?  The more Will thought about it, the less sure he became.  He had to know for sure.

"Where's Elizabeth?" He sounded a bit more desperate than he cared to admit, but Will had recently passed the point of being concerned with his image.

Placing his hands together in a prayer-like form, palm against palm, Jack turned to the dark-haired younger man.  "She's safe, just like I promised.  She's all set to marry Norrington, just like she promised." Will relaxed at the first half of the statement, but quickly tensed up again as he finished his report.  Jack then focused his kohl-rimmed gaze strongly on Will and continued.  "And you get to die for her, just like you promised.  So we're all men of our word really, except for Elizabeth who is, in fact, a woman."  

Confused, Will stared at Jack, trying to understand what had just been said.  His faith in the pirate was rapidly ebbing with each word.  The relief that had flooded his mind at the first sight of Jack quickly became muddled with worry and uncertainty.  Whose side was Jack on?

Barbossa narrowed his eyes in disgust, obviously not amused with Jack's speech.  "Shut up!" He spat out angrily.  He quickly leaned in, putting the dagger against Will's neck again, this time even harder than before.  "You're next."  His eyes had not left his ex-captain throughout the action.  With a twisted smile, he turned his attention back to the task at hand – slitting the throat of Turner's son.

Sickness inundated Will.  He could not handle the sudden swings between wild hope and debilitating despair anymore.  If he was going to die, he wanted it to end quickly, and if what Jack said was true about Elizabeth marrying Norrington, perhaps death would be the easiest route.  Will did not know if he could handle his life without Elizabeth.  She _was_ his life.  

Shaking his head, Jack crossed his arms and spoke in a whimsical warning tone.  "You don't want to be doing that, mate."  His dark-rimmed eyes stared with burning intensity at the ritualistic alter where Barbossa was trying to take the life of the blacksmith.

Without looking up, Barbossa answered the other pirate with exasperation.  "No, I really think I do."

Shrugging, Jack tossed his hands up in defeat.  "Your funeral." The comment was spoken unworriedly, expressing that he was unconcerned with Barbossa's consequences.

Barbossa released an aggravated sigh as once again the knife lifted away from Will's neck.  The cursed captain straightened up and stared at Jack Sparrow.  "Why don't I want to be doin' it?" The question was asked in a frustrated curiosity.

A brief smile flashed across Jack's face when Barbossa showed interest in what he was about to say. Brushing the controlling arm of a pirate off his shoulder, Jack shot the offending brigand a look before answering Barbossa's question.  "Because the HMS Dauntless, pride of the Royal Navy, is floating just off shore…waiting for you."

Will's brow lowered at that statement.  What would the Royal Navy being doing here?  There was nothing that would register as important here – Will almost laughed aloud at the thought that they would care of his fate.  Obviously, there was something more at work here.  Fixing his stare on Jack, the blacksmith quickly decided that this was all of Jack's design.  He carefully listened as the eccentric pirate finished his proposal to Barbossa.

"'Course you'll take the grandest as your flagship and who's to argue?" Jack paused, allowing time for his proposal to sink in.  "But what of the Pearl?  Name me captain, I'll sail under your colors, I'll give you ten percent of me plunder and you get to introduce yourself as…Commodore Barbossa." He flashed a dazzling grin toward the other pirate.  "Savvy?"

  A feeling of anger began to smolder deep down in Will's heart.  So that's what Jack was all about.  Nothing was too important to sacrifice just as long as he got his bloody precious Black Pearl back.  The blacksmith tightly clenched his teeth together, trying to see things clearly.  It would do him no good to loose his cool now.  

Barbossa scrutinized Jack Sparrow carefully and thoughtfully flipped the ancient dagger in his hand.  His gaze turned to Will.  "I s'pose in exchange you want me not to kill the whelp."

"No, no, not at all!" Jack quickly corrected, causing Will's gaze toward him to grow even darker.  In response to the look that the younger man gave him, Jack simply raised an eyebrow.  "By all means, kill the whelp.  Just not now."  He stopped again and swaggered up to where Barbossa stood.  Will tried to straighten up, but Bo'sun immediately pushed him back down.

Jack Sparrow's eyes glanced down at the gold and he set his hand on the side of the stone tomb before looking back up to Barbossa.  "Wait to lift the curse…until the opportune moment." His hand delved into the gold and he pushed it around with his dirty fingers.

Restraining himself, Will tried not to jerk at that comment.  There was something in Jack's voice that spoke directly to him.  There was something that made Will try to read in-between the lines.  He had heard Jack say that before.  As inconspicuously as possible, the blacksmith's dark brown eyes moved up and looked over to the outlandish pirate.  Jack saw the movement and quickly met eyes with him.  In that moment, an understanding made itself clear in Will's mind.  He did not know Jack's plan, but he had to trust him.

As quickly as the eye contact was made, it was as swiftly broken and Jack looked back up to Barbossa, shuffling several of the gold coins around in his hand.  "For instance, after you've killed Norrington's men…"  He paused and flipped a coin back into the tomb with each word that he spoke.  "Every…last…one."

Then, Jack tightly closed his fist around the one coin that he did not throw back, keeping any from seeing his action, save Will.  Feeling reassured that Jack did indeed have some sort of plan, Will decided that the least he could do at this point was make Sparrow's act more believable. 

Smoothly straightening up, Will glared as fiercely as he could at Jack Sparrow.  "You've been planning this since the beginning!  Ever since you learned my name!" Surprisingly, Bo'sun did not shove the young man back down.  Will assumed this was probably because he was entertained by his anger toward Jack Sparrow.

Jack looked thoughtfully at the young Turner, letting his fingers run over a string of beads that hung down from his hair.  Finally, he gave a slight nod.  "Yeah." 

The blacksmith stared at Jack for a few seconds, noting that his face gave no outward sign of any lies.  Once again, Will searched out the pirate's eyes, hoping to find that he had done the right thing.  However, it was impossible to tell.  Jack Sparrow gave no outward sign of any deception and this only served to unnerve Will. 

Barbossa seemed to be sold on the proposition of Jack Sparrow and its authenticity, and the two argued the percentage of the plunder back and forth for a bit.  Jack finally gave a little bit of ground, but threw in another gain.

"Twenty-five.  And I'll buy you the hat…" He trailed off, seeing that Barbossa seemed interested but was unwilling to give in at just that bonus.  "A really big one…" He smiled convincingly. "Commodore."

Finally breaking underneath the attractiveness of the deal, Barbossa threw his arm out to Jack Sparrow.  "We have an accord." Jack met the captain's hand with his own firm grasp.  Will continued to watch, at a loss as toward what he should do now.  He was not entirely sure if Jack was even on his side, or for that matter, if Jack ever took sides save his own.

Jack promptly turned to the pirates that were watching the interaction and raised his hands in the direction of the boats.  "All hands to the boats!" His voice was indisputable and several of the men that looked up at him turned to leave and follow his orders.  However, a large portion looked with confusion toward Barbossa, who was giving Jack a disapproving glare.

A diffident laugh escaped the infamous Jack Sparrow and he lowered his arms, directing the attention back to Barbossa.  "Apologies, you give the orders." He corrected, smiling briefly.  

A smile also graced the face of the Black Pearl's captain, but this one was cold and conniving.  He lifted an eyebrow and glanced at Jack before looking back to his expectant men.  "Gents!  Take a walk."  The command was meant with low laughs and all of the pirates soon emptied out of the cave, save several to guard Will.

Will looked nervously at Jack, who seemed to have an equally disturbed air about him.  "Not to the boats?" He conjectured, his dark eyebrows lowering to where they shaded his already dark eyes.  

Smiling even wider, Barbossa shook his head.  "Not to the boats." He affirmed, resting against the cool stone of Cortez's tomb.  It was only a matter of time before he had everything now: The blood of a Turner, the title of Commodore, and his very own fleet to command.  Only a matter of time.

**TBC…**

Reviewer Responses:

**Toria** – Well, Bo'sun _almost_ left Will alone in this chapter!  He was trying, he really was…errrr.  I think with this chapter you discover more of why Will has the issues that he does.  Poor guy.  Thanks for reading!

**Ildera – Once again, HUGE thanks for the wonderful review!  As for the empathetic writing, that's a very good view on it.  I'm an extraordinarily empathetic person in real life, so it kind of shows up in my writing too.  I don't think it's possible to understand a person or character until you can feel what they feel.  I'm glad you liked the last chapter!  Hopefully this one is okay too!  =)**

**legolaslover – I can forgive the hyperness, LOL!  I'm happy that you are enjoying the story…hopefully I update fast enough for you guys!  *grins***

**Carrie5** – I know what you mean!  It's so easy to put your favorite character through horrendous situations, but I think it's classified under tough love.  I'd never let any of them die off…*pauses*….or _would I?  *mysterious smile*  Heh.  Anyway, thanks so much for the review!  Let me know when you write a story – I'd be thrilled to read it!_

**Saru**** Namii – Thanks for the review – I'm glad you like my portrayal of things!  Hopefully this chapter is up to par!  =)**


	5. Chapter Five

_Author's Note:_ Hey everyone!  Sorry for the long break!  I don't have time to respond individually to the reviews, but I just want to thank everyone for the encouraging words!  It's been a busy time as I have just moved into my dorm at college and am getting settled in, but I'll try to continue to update as much as I can!  :D  I hope this chapter holds up and please let me know what you think by dropping me a review.  I'm here to please my audience!  *bows and walks off*

**Failing Hope**

_Chapter Five_

Another crash of metal upon metal made Will grimace and grind his teeth together in annoyance.  Ever since Barbossa's men had left to attack Norrington's fleet, Jack Sparrow had been rummaging through the glittering piles of treasure.  The spoken of pirate haphazardly tossed aside another silver piece and immediately took up another, holding it close to his face and eyeing it carefully.  

          Already, Jack looked utterly ridiculous.  An over-the-top crown adorned with multi-colored sparkling gems sat lopsided on his head, and more rings than physically possible were decorating his grungy fingers.  After staring at the treasure currently in his hands, Jack easily discarded it also, apparently not satisfied with its appearance.

          Will watched the pirate's actions, stuck with only standing on a relatively small rock, surrounded by the shallow cave waters.  Bo'sun stood next to him, assuring that no escape would be attempted.  During the entire time since the other pirates had filed out, Will tried to figure out just exactly how Jack Sparrow's mind really worked.  All that the young blacksmith succeeded in doing was procuring himself a rather intrusive headache.  None of the pirate's actions made any sense nor did they follow any common track.  It seemed as though all of Jack's dealings were completely random and arbitrary.  While his decisions would seem ill thought one moment, the very next they would reveal themselves as borderline genius.

          Barbossa stood a distance away from where Jack continued fumbling about the treasure, a distant smirk on his face.  "I must admit Jack, I thought I had ye figured.  It turns out that you're a hard man to predict."

          Decisively, Jack dropped yet another inadequate bauble and glanced up at the other pirate before moving away from his current gold mine.  He pointed to himself, looking surprised.  "Me?  I'm dishonest, and a dishonest man you can always trust to be dishonest…honestly."  At this point, Jack glanced over to Will for a split second before waving his hand about lightly and returning his dark-lined gaze to Barbossa.  "It's the honest ones that you want to watch out for, because you can never predict when they're going to do something incredibly…stupid."

          It was once again in a single glance that Will could discern a indication of imminent action.  The blacksmith's dark eyes watched Jack's actions fastidiously, waiting for an unknown signal.  Moments like these restored Will's wavering faith in the ambiguous pirate.  

          In the instant after the last word left Jack's mouth, his hand unsheathed his sword swiftly and was swept up into a vicious but nimble swordfight with Barbossa, who had quickly realized what was happening.

          Knowing that he must take advantage of the moment of shock, Will spun around, lashing out at Bo'sun, his captor.  His foot firmly connected with the large pirate's midsection, and Will hastily took advantage of the pirate's sword and managed to cut the bonds from his hands.  Bo'sun, so shocked with the sudden change of winds, did nothing to retaliate against the rebellious blacksmith as Will took one of his swords.

          Surprised at the simplicity of his actions, Will lifted his sword to the neck of the black pirate, only to find another sword resting precariously against his own throat.  He stared coldly at Bo'sun, who held the other sword.

          "A pirate always carries more than one weapon, boy.  Ye should know that."  To emphasize his point, Bo'sun pressed the sharp blade slightly harder against the soft flesh of Will's neck.  He stared with empty eyes at the blacksmith.  "I can't die, Turner.  What d'ye propose on doing?"

          Unable to break the blackness that Bo'sun's gaze filled him with, Will quickly lashed out with a foot.  Taken by surprise, the pirate's sword fell away from Will's neck as he landed roughly on the cold rocks beneath.  A sickening crack echoed in the air when the man's back struck the hard surface.  It was a blow that should have broken the vertebrae of any typical human.  The undead, however, were an entirely different story.

          Will stared down frigidly, pinning the pirate to the rocks with a single foot as he struggled to regain his footing.  "What will I do?  I will kill you." His voice grew softer as he spoke, but his threat grew stronger.  "Somehow I will make you pay for everything you ever did.  Everything you ever did to me, everything you ever did to Elizabeth, and everything you put my father through.  I vow that you will know the pain of a sword's sting before the end."

          A twisted smile grew on the man's face as Will spoke and his hand traveled illusively until it was several centimeters away from the blacksmith's boot.  With a flip of the wrist, Bo'sun grabbed Will's ankle and ripped it out from beneath him, sending the young man crashing down onto his side.  His hands landed in the shallow waters, but his side caught the unforgiving surface of a jagged rock and the young man exhaled quickly, all of the breath leaving his lungs.  Pain ripped through his stomach and his fingers instinctively loosened, sending his sword clattering from his grip and landing a foot away in the pools of water.  Suddenly all of Will's attention focused on pulling another breath into his burning lungs, and he gasped agonizingly from his floored position.

          Taking advantage of the situation, Bo'sun regained his foothold and stood over Will, his sword raised and its tip pointing downward to Will's chest.  "I could run ye through right now, lad.  We could get the blood good enough from your worthless corpse."  

           Unable to do much more than stare up at his impending death, Will reached a hand backward, his fingers scrabbling desperately for his lost sword.  If only he had noticed the pirate's movements before he would not be in this situation.  His fingers came up empty and his heart plunged into despair.  He could not save himself.  Not this time.

          The dark sword that hung above him was raised slightly as Bo'sun prepared to plunge it downward, unmindful of his captain's demands that the Turner boy be kept alive.  Blood was blood, after all.  It mattered not whether it came from a live or dead man.  He could see the fear that was shining in the boy's brown eyes, despite his pathetic attempts to hide the fright.  "Are you ready, whelp?" He harshly whispered, relishing every moment.  "I'm gonna teach you the meanin' of pain."

          Closing his eyes, Will could not help the tremor of terror that raced through him.  This was facing death far too many times in one day.  His resolve had been worn down like a stone that lay on the beach, being beat repeatedly by the ocean's waves.  There was nothing left to draw from.  He waited tensely for the blinding pain of a blade tearing through him.  It never came.

          Suddenly a familiar voice ripped through Will's thoughts.  "You like pain?" 

          The blacksmith's eyes flew open just in time to see a young female dressed in an oversized army uniform bring a large staff directly into the chest of the looming Bo'sun.  It took Will only an instant to identify the voice, and he watched, stunned, as the woman straightened back up.  "Try wearing a corset."

          "Elizabeth." Will's words were hardly a whisper, but the longhaired girl turned her face to him, concerned eyes sweeping over him.  She knelt down slightly and held her slender fingers out to him to help him to his feet.  He accepted her hand and crawled back to a standing position.  

          After he was upright, she lightly squeezed his hand, running her thumb over his knuckles.  Her gaze, however, was turned to Barbossa and Jack who were both still locked in battle.  Her jaw slipped open when Jack backed up through a beam of moonlight, suddenly revealing a skeletal form.  Her dark eyes turned quickly to Will, who was watching, but was not quite as shocked.  He had seen Jack take the coin, after all.  

          "Whose side is Jack on?" Elizabeth murmured, still somewhat stunned to see Jack take on the deathly form in the cold, distant rays of the moonlight.  

          Will smiled ironically at that statement, the sparkle of the grin never reaching his eyes.  Whose side _was Jack on?  He had been willing to betray Will at the beginning, but he had obviously also betrayed Barbossa, not to mention that he had lied to Norrington, as well.  After listing several of the people, Will gave up trying to understand completely.  Jack was on Jack's side, and there was no way to change that._

          In order to answer Elizabeth's inquiry, Will cryptically responded with another question.  "At the moment?"  That was the truth.  All one had to do was give the pirate another ten minutes and perhaps it would once again appear as though he was on Barbossa's side.  

          The blacksmith's musings were abruptly cut short as a group of three skeletal pirates attacked from both sides.  Elizabeth, still holding the long pole, took advantage of their exposed forms and rammed the long rod through all three of them, binding them together.  They tugged back and forth uselessly, unable to remove the long staff.  Elizabeth quickly backed away, seeing what Will held in his hands.

          Will, gaining a small bomb discarded by one of the pirates, shoved it in the middle pirate's ribcage as it burned.  Then both Will and Elizabeth gave all three a hard shove, sending them stumbling back out of the moonlight and returning them to human form.  A panicked expression appeared on their faces as they realized that they could no longer remove the still burning bomb.

          The middle pirate glanced up at Will, his eyes wide in horror.  "No fair!" He exclaimed moments before the bomb went off.

          Elizabeth cringed away, shutting her eyes to avoid seeing the messy results of their action.  Will rubbed her shoulder consolingly, even though he had been somewhat troubled by the explosion himself.  His worries were quickly cut short as he noticed Jack stop his parrying swordplay and run the tip of his sword along the skin of his own hand.  Thick, crimson blood trickled onto the face of the shining gold coin that Jack held all along.  The pirate's darkly rimmed eyes flashed up to where Will stood, still close to the tomb that held the rest of the cursed treasure.  Will nodded, the action almost invisible to those standing around him.  He understood what Jack planned to do now, and he had to fulfill his own part.

          With a flick of his wrist, Jack sent the bloodstained gold flying toward Will, flipping wildly through the air.  Will immediately captured it in his own fist and reached up to pull the final gold medallion from his neck.  He glanced over to see Barbossa aiming his gun in the direction of Elizabeth.  Will's heart began to race in fury.  There was no way that the mutineer would kill her now – not after everything that had happened.  Deep in his heart, Will knew that if Elizabeth were ever to die, he himself would also die.  Somehow, their hearts connected deeper than most could imagine.  There was an imperceptible tie between the two souls that entwined two vastly different lives into one.  He couldn't loose her – not now, not ever.

          Will's hands moved faster than his brain processed the information and with one powerful yank, the untarnished final medallion falling into his palm.  Instinctively, Will drew the blood-tarnished ritual dagger across his own palm, causing deep red blood to well to the surface.  The face of the gold was pressed tightly into his hand and the blacksmith hissed softly as the wound stung painfully.  He closed his eyes tightly, trying to ignore the sharp pain that shot through his hand.  

          A shot rang through the empty caverns merely a split second later and Will's head snapped up.  Oh god.  Barbossa hadn't released his shot, had he?  The young man's dark eyes traveled to look at Elizabeth who stared back at him, her jaw dropped a few centimeters.  She took a tentative step forward, never breaking eye contact with the blacksmith.  

          "I'm okay." She whispered, stepping close enough to brush her fingers against his upper arm.  A faint smile crossed her face as she could clearly read the relief on Will's face as though she were reading a large print novel.  

          Reassured that Elizabeth was indeed all right, Will's gaze quickly shifted and traveled to where Jack held a gun steadily aimed at Barbossa, the end of it still smoking.  However, Barbossa did not seem to be fazed in the least.  Will tensed up.  What if the curse had not been broken?  His gaze fixed steadily on Jack Sparrow, who did not seem unnerved in the least.  

          A brusque laugh came from Barbossa lips as he gazed pitifully at Jack.  "Ten years you carry that pistol and now you waste your shot."  His lips curled upward disdainfully.  

          Barbossa looked away from Jack as he heard the strong voice of Bootstrap's son.  "He didn't waste it."  

          Disbelief overtook the pirate's face as he watched the young Turner slowly open his fist.  Two bloodstained medallions tumbled from his grip as his fingers loosened.  Almost surreally, the final two gold coins fell into the tomb with a clatter.  The blacksmith looked up, finality smoldering in his ashen brown eyes when he met Barbossa's incredulous face.

          Slowly, the ex-first mate of Jack Sparrow unbuttoned his outer coat, and glanced down at his chest.  A flower of crimson red bloomed outward from where the bullet had entered his chest, and the captain reached a shaking hand to the wound, shocked at the sight of it.  He lifted his head and stared at Jack.  The sword that was in his hand weakly fell out of his grip and clattered loudly on the cavern floors.  "I feel…" He paused, a blue tinge slowly overcoming the natural hue of his lips.  "…cold." He finished faintly, collapsing onto the floor of the caves.  A shiny green apple rolled from Barbossa's dead fingers, untouched.

          For the first time in what seemed like an eternity, Will let out a long breath and closed his eyes.  A soft touch caused his eyelids to flutter open again and he met with the dark eyes of Elizabeth.  She rested her forehead against his cheek and laid a hand softly on his chest.  "It's over." She murmured reassuringly.  "It's really over this time."

          Will pulled his still bleeding hand away from Elizabeth, unwilling to allow it to taint her flawless beauty.  His unhurt hand relaxed into the rhythm of lightly stroking her soft flowing hair.  "So it would seem."  His eyes glazed over as his thoughts traveled far away.  "Or has it just begun?"  The last words were spoken so softly that even Elizabeth did not hear them.  The blacksmith's eyes closed tightly and he wrapped his arms around Elizabeth, pulling her closer.  _Please let it be over…_

**TBC**


	6. Chapter Six

**Author's Note**: Hey everyone, Failing Hope has returned!  I know this is taking longer, but with college started, I've been decidedly more busy than usual, but I will continue to try and keep the chapters coming out.  Although, I figure that there may only be one more chapter as it stands for now.  We'll see.

Also, this chapter deals *completely* with what happened in-between scenes, so there are no parts taken from the movie in this chapter.  My common disclaimer also states that I own nothing from the movie nor do I make any profit in this writing.  I'm sorry that once again I do not have the time to respond individually to everyone who reviewed, but I would like to thank you all immensely.  Your support is highly valued!  So please take the time to leave me a review after reading!  :D  I hope everyone enjoys the next chapter!

**Failing Hope**

Chapter 6

As the HMS Dauntless skimmed across the endless sapphire surface of the ocean, a salty breeze sent Will Turner's hair floating behind him.  He sighed deeply, leaning heavily against the smooth curving banister that followed the ship's sides.  His head fell into a crook created by the folded position of his arms on the railing.  His eyes stung fiercely, but no tears would come.  Yes, he survived Barbossa and his crew, but what did he have left?  Elizabeth had already promised herself to Norrington and Jack was locked away in the ship's brig, awaiting his doom back at Port Royal.

Another strong breeze sent a lock of wild curls flying.  Looking up, Will hastily tied the renegade hair back into a plait with a bit of ripped material that was left from when he bound his bleeding palm.  He drew his calloused hand slowly back from his head and stared at the gruffly bandaged palm.  The raggedy off-white material had already begun to stain with the slow crimson blood flow that continued.  Will tightly closed his fist, locking his jaw at the same time.  His gaze turned upward and he watched the sun as it sank slowly into the dark depths of the sea.  The brilliant waters bled a scarlet red and the bottom rims of the sky reflected a deep pink.  

"William Turner." A prim voice grabbed the blacksmith's attention, and the young man slowly turned to face his addresser.  

"Commodore." Will met Norrington's firm gaze with certainty, but his face reflected utter defeat.  

A small nod acknowledged Will's greeting, but the older man's look soon turned away from Will and toward the setting sun.  "Beautiful, isn't it?"  The commodore's hands rested lightly on the white oak railing as he spoke.

Will swallowed, blinking hard.  "To some people, I suppose.  To others it indicates the ending of the day and onset of darkness.  It all simply depends on one's point of view." The blacksmith sighed and looked away, the words catching in his throat as he spoke them.

In a stiff, regal manner, Norrington turned to look at Will Turner.  His face, unlike his actions, was perceptive.  He took in the broken stance of the blacksmith.  Will stood facing away from Norrington with his shoulder stooped and head hung slightly.  Taking a deep breath, the commodore continued the conversation, choosing his words carefully.  "Do not take me for a fool, Mr. Turner."

The dark-haired head snapped back to look at the one who spoke such accusing words.  Will's mouth was open, slightly agape as he searched for words to try to combat the assault that he seemed to be under.  "I don't believe I understand, Commodore…" 

The look of bewilderment on the young man's face was almost enough to make Norrington smile.  "But I do." He countered quickly, holding up a properly trimmed hand to stop any further words from the other man.  "I realize that Elizabeth loves you, Mr. Turner."

A breath caught in Will's throat when the words entered his ears and he choked out a surprised cry.  "What?" He questioned feebly, trying to process where this conversation was going.

The uniform-clad man turned to his right, rubbing his hands together in contemplation.  "Yes, I have known this for some time, William." The commodore's gaze turned to meet the blacksmith's own confused stare.  "However, I do not believe you understand completely the complexity of the society to which both she and I are bound.  Elizabeth has grown up a child of wealth and prosperity, a woman of great prestige."  He paused again, looking up as though the words that he searched for were written on a passing cloud.  "As such, she must honor certain bonds and expectations."

Will furrowed his brow as the Commodore spoke, a deep well of resentment filling within him.  Finally, he could take no more of Norrington's rationale.  "She did not ask to be born into such a world, nor I into mine.  It is enough that we love one another!  We cannot possibly control the world around us!"

Norrington immediately pointed a finger directly at Will's face, his eyebrows raised.  "No you cannot, and that is exactly the point I make.  I ask this of you now, Mr. Turner.  Let Ms. Swann take her proper course and do not interrupt.  It is in her best interest that you let her go."

The already hard gaze of Will Turner turned even colder as Norrington spoke.  Inside Will was shaking in a blinding rage.  How _dare Norrington try to make any assumptions of his character and worth?  He knew nothing of what Will was or wasn't capable of doing!  The blacksmith's next words were curt and irate.  "What is in her best interest is listening to her heart, Commodore." _

An empty smile worked onto the other man's face and he lowered his hand.  "In a perfect world, Mr. Turner, that would indeed be the case.  However, this is far from perfect." He paused and gazed at Will's dingy, frayed clothes with a small sneer of dismay.  "How do you intend on providing for Ms. Swann as a blacksmith's apprentice?  She is used to and expects the things that you will never be able to give her."

A knot of realization began to form in Will's stomach as the commodore's final statement sank in.  As much as Elizabeth's love may have been reciprocated back to him, there was that social rift that once again appeared, uglier than ever.  Elizabeth had grown up in a world of abundance and knew very little else.  Will, however, knew only the world of difficulty where one had a hard time scraping up the means for regular meals.  As much as Elizabeth may have cared, he would not have her give up all that she knew so that she could come live in the grime of the city with him.  He simply could not do that.  And as Will looked back at Norrington, he could tell by the gleam in the commander's eyes that he knew it just as well. 

"I'm glad that you see it my way, Mr. Turner." The commodore simply stated before turning and leaving a disgusted and heartbroken Will to stand alone at the edge of the ship.  The young man stood silently for a moment, allowing the constant cool breeze to hit his face before he violently slammed his fists onto the railing with an unintelligible cry of frustration.  

How many times in his life had he been denied happiness because of money and status?  Will clenched his teeth together, and ripped at the bandage on his hand, scrabbling to pull it off.  With a desperate final tug, the material came loose and slackened before floating to the polished wood deck floor.  Will stared at the gash that had just begun to scab over.  It had all been for nothing.  Will's eyes burned again with tears of sheer disappointment.  He wiped hastily at them, determined to keep at least a small bit of dignity about himself.

"Will?  Are you all right?" A soft voice floated into the blacksmith's ears and he turned, meeting the concerned gaze of Elizabeth Swann.

As quickly as their eyes met, Will hastily diverted his gaze back to the ocean.  "I'm fine."  No more words would come out.  This hurt too much.  Far too much.

A shiver traveled up Will's spine as Elizabeth's light hand came to rest on his shoulder.  He couldn't look at her or she would see everything that was going through his mind.  "You don't look fine." Her voice was even softer now.

Something snapped within Will at that statement and he turned to look at Elizabeth.  There she stood, dressed elegantly once again.  How convenient that her father would bring along extra dresses just in case.  Her previous redcoat garb had been long abandoned, and her hair was tied up, leaving only a few strands to frame her face.  Will could never provide that for her, no matter how many swords that he made.

Taking her hand, he pushed it lightly from his shoulder.  That action provoked a curious glance from Elizabeth, but he hurriedly began to speak.  "Everything is fine, and why shouldn't it be?  The curse is broken, we are headed back to Port Royal, what part of it doesn't speak of things being fine?  You will marry Norrington, just like you should; I will go back to the blacksmith life, as I should; and Jack will be hung, just as Norrington intended.  Sounds bloody fantastic to me!"  By the time Will had finished speaking, his tone had taken on harsh sarcasm.

Elizabeth looked at the seething blacksmith in a stunned silence.  Her gaze traveled down to his hand, where blood ran down his wrist in a slow trickle.  He had balled his hands at this point and managed to reopen the healing wound with his own fingernails.  Elizabeth shook her head slowly, startled by his outburst.  "What do you want of me?  I promised to marry Norrington only to save you, Will!  It was the only thing that I could do…I didn't know what to do." 

Will turned away, disgusted with himself, knowing that he upset Elizabeth with his angry accusations.  "Then it was too late anyhow.  You could not save me from myself." He murmured, un-balling his hand.  He softly hissed at the stinging pain that he unknowingly inflicted on himself.  He turned his head and looked desolately at Elizabeth.  "I could never give you what you deserve anyhow."

A look of confusion shimmered onto Elizabeth's face and she lowered her eyebrows in bewilderment.  "You are I all I want, Will." She reached out, brushing her fingers lightly across his cheek.  "You are all I need."  Her heart was aching at the distance that Will seemed to desperate to place between the two of them.  "Please, Will, understand!"

His heart warmed at the touch of Elizabeth's fingers and he reached up and met her hand tentatively with his own uninjured hand.  His fingers wrapped delicately around her own and he held her hand to his face for a fleeting moment.  Will closed his eyes and breathed in deeply before releasing her hand and backing away.  Upon reopening his own eyes again, he was met with the heartbreaking look of pain on Elizabeth's face.  

"I love you Elizabeth.  I always have, but you deserve a better life.  You deserve more than what I could ever give you." Will hoped that his last words would make her understand why he had to do this.  It killed him inside, but he knew that this would be for the best.  

Awkwardly, Will raised his hand in parting before turning and dashing away, needing to get away from the agonizing grief that burned in his soul.  Originally, he had no specific intentions of running anywhere, but he soon found himself rapidly descending the stairs to the underbelly of the ship.  He reached the bottom of the stairs and tentatively began searching for the one person who was being held as prisoner.

          The darkness in the brig was overwhelming and brought the memories of Will's own recent adventures rushing to mind.  He shook his head, trying to forget everything that happened.  There was nothing left for him anymore, but maybe there would be some way that he could at least fix a few things.  Will continued to scan the dark cells, hoping to spot something.  After a few minutes, he sighed in frustration and leaned against the cool bars of a cell.  

          "As long as ye're this bloody close, did ye at least bring me some rum?" A voice from the darkness caused Will to bolt upright so quickly that he nearly lost his balance.  

          "Jack!" Will smiled broadly, glad that the pirate had not been tossed overboard by Norrington's men.  Until Jack made himself heard, that situation had become a distinct growing possibility in Will's mind.  

          "Captain!  Please do try to remember the captain part." Jack Sparrow looked particularly pained as he exasperatedly reminded the young Turner of his hard-earned status.

          Unable to keep the relieved smile off his face, Will sighed in relief.  "Yes, yes, _Captain _Jack Sparrow.  Are you all right?" The younger man moved over to the bars of the cell that held the pirate and wrapped his hands around the cool metal.

          Pushing himself up from his previous reclined position, the eccentric pirate looked questionably at Will with kohl-rimmed eyes.  "Aye, I've had me some better and some worse brigs to be held in."  His mouth turned up in an agitated scowl as he began speaking his thoughts aloud.  "Speaking of which, I have a few concerns regarding the treatment of me _Pearl." _

          Raising an eyebrow, Will pushed away from the cell and folded his arms in interest.  "Please, continue."  Somehow, he knew blame was going to come flying back to him faster than a parrot could caw, 'Polly want a cracker?'

          As a response, several exaggerated grunts served as Jack's incentive as he arduously pushed himself to a standing position.  He swaggered drunkenly forward to the front of the cell and motioned Will forward with a single crooked finger.  With an obliging sigh, Will took the few steps forward and stood close to the bars.

          Suddenly, Jack reached out and tightly enwrapped his fingers in the loose material of the blacksmith's shirt and pulled him close enough that his forehead rested against the bars of the cell.

          "I would find it ever so kindly, Mr. Turner, if ye'd considerately stop blowing holes in my bloody ship!"  After letting that bit of steam out, Jack relaxed his grip on the shirt and allowed Will to back up.

          Will stared at the pirate incredulously before allowing a small smile to creep onto his face.  "We did the best we could.  Be glad that we threw all the cannon balls overboard before the battle even started."

          A disappointed sigh fell from Jack's mouth and he glanced away, as though something else in the dark, empty brig had caught his undivided attention.  Will stayed put, waiting for Jack to speak.  It was this pirate alone right now, that was keeping him from falling into a deep pit of despair that would be near impossible to escape.

          Acknowledging that Will had no intentions of leaving anytime in the near future, Jack slid his gaze back to the stationary blacksmith.  "Well, ye've made it quite clear, lad, that ye have no intentions of going anywhere, so ye might as well be out with it."  Emphasizing his disinterest in the situation, Jack picked halfheartedly at one of his filthy fingernails.

          Will stepped forward, looking directly at the pirate, curiosity in his dark brown eyes.  He fidgeted with the material holding his hair back, accidentally untying it, sending his mahogany locks tumbling into his face.  Impatiently he brushed the hair away from his eyes and spoke.  "Out with what?"

          That comment from the young Turner drew Jack Sparrow's attention away from his fingernails and he lifted his head, eyebrows raised in incredulity.  "You've come down 'ere searching like a crazed pirate for gold, gaspin' like ye've just run the length of the Carribean isles, and blood seeping down your hand.  I know you didn't come down 'ere merely for the genuine goodwill of the act.  So what be on your mind, Will?"

          A pause followed Jack's observation and Will mentally stammered, trying to get his grip back.  Was he that easy to see through?  His first instinct was to defend his actions, so he quickly leapt into the action of doing so.  "I was concerned to see how they were treating you, Jack.  I don't appreciate being accused of having ulterior motives."  

          Through the dark rimmed kohl that nearly hid the pirate's eyes, Will could see the sparkle of amusement in Jack's eyes.  "I'm touched, truly I am.  Now what is it that ye really want?"

          Will sighed, not amused that Jack had not believed his well thought out defense.  "Fine."  He turned away from the cell, walking a quick pace back and forth before turning and facing Jack again.  "This has all been a waste.  I have nothing to go back to anymore, Jack.  I can't go back again – I can't face my life all over again!"

          There was no immediate response from the pirate, and instead he stood stock-still.  The only motion that came from him was when he brought his hand to a bead-covered strand of hair and ran it along it thoughtfully.  "I see that you've discovered your little lady's bargain.  Bloody shame."

          Will's gaze turned harder as he looked critically at Jack.  "What do you mean, bargain?"  He vaguely remembered hearing Elizabeth say something earlier, but he had been in too much pain to care or heed her words.  

          As his hand slipped from his hair, Jack wiggled his fingers randomly, watching his many rings with intense concentration.  Will began to wonder if the pirate was avoiding looking at him, or if he truly did have such a short attention span.  "Surprised she didn't tell you herself.  Norrington wanted to leave ye to Barbossa, Will.  But Elizabeth wouldn't have it."  He paused, his gaze darkening as he intently studied the ring on his index finger.  "Bloody stubborn woman, that one."  

          Hitting the brig cell with moderate force, Will was rewarded with Jack's undivided, albeit short, attention.  "What are you talking about?" He refused to lose Jack's eye contact.

          Jack sighed and began to speak as though he were explaining quantum physics to an attention deficient child.  "Ms. Swann promised to marry the commodore in exchange for your life, Mr. Turner."  After finishing the brief and concise statement, Jack flipped his right hand in the air, waiting for a flicker of comprehension from the younger man.

          Silence continued for several moments as Will absorbed this finally lucid piece of information.  His heart plummeted.  "She made a folly promise then.  It would have been better to leave me to Barbossa instead of having me survive only to see this."  Will's gaze dropped to the floor and his let the bulk of his weight lean against the strong iron door to Jack's cell.

          Jack chewed thoughtfully on the inside of his check, noting the downcast face of the younger man.  He lightly tapped on Will's shoulder, an obvious action demanding attention.  Will turned his face slowly, meeting the contemplative expression of the pirate.  "The way you're acting, ye'd think that it were you going to the gallows once we reach Port Royal."

          Narrowing his eyes, Will laughed ruefully.  "Our fates are never entirely unchangeable, Captain Sparrow."  A flicker flared in the blacksmith's dark eyes as he spoke.  "I don't intend to let fate win out entirely this time."  A smile began to form on Will's lips and he turned his head to look at Jack directly.  "Good day, Captain Sparrow."

          A puzzled look worked its way onto the dark haired pirate's face as Will turned and dashed away from the cell, headed back above deck.  A deep foreboding churned in his stomach, and Jack yelled after the young blacksmith.  "William!  Don't do anything…"

          A door slammed, leaving Jack with the endless quiet that he dwelled in before the sudden appearance of Bootstrap's boy.  Jack sighed exasperatedly.

          "…stupid."    

**TBC…**


	7. Chapter Seven

_Author's Note:_ Well, here we are!  Chapter seven!  And, honestly, I had high hopes that this would be the last chapter…however, it got away on me and it appears there will be at least one, if not two more chapters still coming.  I would just like to state now that I took the artistic license of giving Will's mother a name and creating my own background for his life.  Just my take on things, don't get up in arms about it.  I swear, I did intend on getting further in this chapter than what happened, but the thing sort of took off a bit more than I had originally planned.  There is a little bit more of Jack Sparrow perspective at the end.  He's a highly entertaining character to write for.  So once again, thank you to everyone who has taken the time to review – I really do appreciate it!  And please, review if you can!  Thank you so much.  So without any further ado, I bring you the next chapter!

**Failing Hope**

Chapter Seven

Written by - Pinto

The blacksmith shop had never been an attractive looking building.  The aging wood had not been touched since the day that the last nail had been pounded into its timbers and the neglect was showing.  The gray dryness could be seen from a fair distance and spoke of more years than what the small store had seen.  

          Will Turner ran his hand along the rough wood appreciatively as he entered the small shop.  The rickety door creaked with a habitual groan, and Will faintly smiled, appreciating the familiarity that the blacksmith shop provided.  

          Upon entering, the scent of straw and must invaded his senses, but that too was comforting and familiar.  The dusty straw snapped underneath his feet as he made his way deeper into the building.  Even though he had not entered the main forging area, Will could detect a light snore coming from within.  He rolled his eyes.  At least some things never changed; Mr. Brown was obviously still in another drunken stupor.  But checking on Mr. Brown was not Will's motivation nor top priority for being here.  

          It was still early morning, and the first rays of dawn filtered through the cracks in the sideboards and spilled onto the filthy dirt floor, creating a mockingly golden glow.  Purposefully, Will strode through the dusky shop and soon found his way to a narrow and well-hidden staircase.  Without a second thought, he began to make his way up, the old wooden stairs creaking indignantly underneath the young man's weight.  Undisturbed by this sound, Will progressed up the stairs, finally reaching the pinnacle, which led into a small, cramped room.  Will's room.

          Soundlessly the young blacksmith moved over to a small and bare sagging bed.  A raggedy, yellowed quilt covered the bed's flat, slightly lumpy mattress.  Will sank onto the mattress and it groaned in response.  Unaffected, Will reached underneath the bed and pulled out a small trunk, only several feet in either dimension.  He gripped its weathered sides and pushed the top open.  

          A moth fluttered out, attesting to the age of the chest.  Will mindlessly brushed it away in annoyance and eagerly delved into the trunk.  When he brought his arms back, a long cloak hung from his hands.  It was a deep maroon, made of strong fabric.  Will set it on his lap and reached into the chest again, this time pulling back a large, somewhat-flamboyant hat.  He smiled distantly as he ran his fingers along the edge of a downy long feather that protruded from the hat.  He remembered the day that he received both of these articles of clothing clearly, for it had been the same day that the pirate medallion had come into his possession.

_"Will, there is a package for you." The soft voice of Theresa Turner floated through the tiny dwelling, quickly reaching the ears of a young Will Turner._

_          Jumping up from the midst his wooden toy soldiers' war, the small boy raced out of his miniscule room and into the adjoining small kitchen.  The idea that a package had come for him was extraordinarily exciting – never before had such a thing happened!  He skidded to a stop in front of his mother and looked up expectantly, avidly eyeing the rugged brown parcel that she held._

_          Smiling, Theresa admired the eight-year old boy that stood expectantly in front of her.  William looked so much like his father, mostly through his dark earnest eyes, and it dug deeply at her heart to realize the similarities.  She allowed her smile to disappear and let a solemn look settle on her soft features.  "Have you finished your chores?"  _

_          Eagerly, the dark haired child nodded.  "Yes, Mother, I finished feeding the pigs an hour ago."  Even though Will easily attested to his work ethic, Theresa could see that his eyes never wandered from the package that she still held.  _

_          Nodding in approval, Will's mother slowly allowed the package to descend within her son's reaching range, and he quickly snatched at it with child-like impatience.  She pulled it back again, resting a single hand at the back of her head, in effect, restraining her long and wavy light brown hair.  The look of disappointment on Will's face nearly made Theresa hand the gift right back, but she held her ground._

_          A light tug at her long, patched skirt indicated that Will was not at all amused with her sudden change of mind.  She laughed lightly, moving her hand from her own hair and letting it settle on her son's head.  "Before you take it, don't you care to know who it is from, my son?" _

_          A puzzled look overcame the dark features of the child as he pondered that observation and he glanced up again and nodded, hoping that he would then get the package back.  "Who is it from?" He kept his hand entwined in the heavy skirt of his mother's garments._

_          At this statement, Theresa allowed herself to smile again and handed the package back to William who eagerly accepted it.  "Your father, Will.  Your father."  _

_          A shocked gasp came from the eight-year-old as he stared incredulously at the brown parcel in his hands.  "Papa?"  A nod from his mother affirmed his question and he quickly hugged the package to his chest, refusing to let it go.  "May I open it, Mother?" Anxiousness pulled at his words, even as he spoke them._

_          She nodded, waving her hand in the direction of his small room.  "Go on, child."_

_          With an excited smile, the boy ran off to his room, the package never leaving the tight grip in which he enveloped it.  Theresa watched him until he disappeared and then reached over to a low shelf, pulling a parched piece of paper out and unfolding it. The sparkle in her light brown eyes faded as she carefully reread every word that was scrawled across the letter's surface._

          My Dearest Theresa,

                   How I have missed you, my love!  The open seas are a cruel and hard life, but it is the thought of you and Will that keeps me strong.  Speaking of the lad, how is he doing?  I miss him terribly, but I fear I will be on the seas for several more years before the possibility of return may be possible.  The package that I enclosed is for him and will hopefully make my separation from him less painful.  I hope to return to you someday, my dear, but I will not make false promises that cannot always be kept.  If I do not return, please, tell Will how sorry I am and that I wish things did not turn out as they have.  I love you.  

                                                                                      With all my love,

                                                                                                          William

          _By the time her eyes reached the end of the letter, the sides had been crumpled by her tightly clasped fingers.  A tear traced its way down her cheek and fell from her face, landing onto the parchment and darkly smearing the shakily lettered ink.  A hole had worked into her stomach and tied her up into knots.  William wasn't coming back._

_          While his mother realized the reality of the package and letter, young Will had quickly settled down onto the worn throw that covered the center of the floor in his room.  He set the package down in-between his legs and stared at it for a moment.  This was a package from his father!  With a thrilled, childish grin, the young boy ripped into the paper, quickly unwrapping the parcel_

_Underneath the crinkled brown paper was a poorly made wooden box, and ever so carefully, the young boy lifted the cover from the top.  A gasp came from Will as he reached in and pulled out a long cloak – far too big for the child.  His smile widened, which was an astounding feat for such a small child.  His other hand dug into the box and pulled out a hat.  However, this was not any ordinary hat – its rims were carefully crafted and curved gently upward.  Most importantly of all was the feather.  A long, dignified feather plume extended from the hat's lip, whiter than the whitest snows.  The boy's fingers trailed along the feather, delighting in the soft touch that it provided.  _

_Soon Will noticed that there was a small piece of paper tucked alongside the feather in the hat, and he gingerly pulled it from its spot.  After unfolding it, his eyes trailed over the words that had been painstakingly scrawled.  Will was taught from an early age to read, something his mother felt absolutely crucial if the boy was to ever make anything of himself.  The letter was simple and provided no challenges for the child._

Dear Will,

          I hope you like the presents that I sent you.  The cloak and hat both came from merchant sailors that were returning to Spain, and I simply had to buy them.  If you ever wish to be a sailor someday, you must have the proper attire, after all.  Also, the medallion I have sent you is another trinket I picked up while traveling.  Please, keep it safe and secret, Will.  I will try to return home to you someday soon.  Take care of Mother until my return.

                                                                   Love,

                                                                             Papa

_Startled by the revelation that there still lingered treasure within the box, young Will quickly snatched the package again and looked in.  There, nestled in a far corner, lay a single medallion.  It shone a bright gold, and a skull stared from the center of the coin, accented by the jagged edges surrounding it.  Mouth wide, Will lifted it out of the box, resting it in his palm.  His father entrusted him to the safety of this beautiful object, and Will was willing to do whatever it would take to carry out his wishes.  _

_Pulling a dulled silver chain from underneath his loose shirt, Will carefully removed it over his head.  He unlatched the chain and slid the gleaming medallion onto it.  The only other charm on the necklace was a dull silver cross.  The medallion nearly covered the cross, almost choking it out.  _

_Footsteps grew closer to Will's room and with a panicked expression, he quickly pulled the chain back over his head and tucked the necklace beneath his shirt once again.  Obviously, his father trusted this medallion to him for some reason, and he did not want his mother to find out about it.  _

_Theresa's soft footsteps stopped as she towered above the smaller boy who sat on the floor, trying to conceal the guilty look that was trying to creep onto his face._  She smiled and knelt down by Will.  He glanced furtively at her before quickly looking away.__

_"What did your father send you, Will?" She rested a hand on the soft material of the cloak and waited for her son to tell her all about his presents._

_Excited by the opportunity to show someone the contents of his package, a bright smile lit up his face, erasing the unease that had been there previously.  He lifted the cloak up, allowing his mother a better opportunity to see the garb.  After a moment, and noticing the appreciative smile on her face, he lowered the long garment and picked up the beautiful hat and placed it on his head.  _

_"He sent me the cloak and this hat." He smiled, only faltering slightly as he remembered that he should leave the part about the medallion out.  _

_Theresa placed a thoughtful look on her face, making it seem as though she were carefully inspecting the gifts.  "These seem to be fine garments, indeed, Mr. Turner."_

_His mother's interest in the clothes thrilled the young boy to no end and he swirled the cloak around his shoulders with a dramatic flair.  He raised his eyebrows, surrounded by the excessively long cloak.  "I could be a pirate!" He exclaimed, trying out his most intimidating look._

_The smile quickly fell from Theresa's face and she reached forward, gripping her son's face between her hands and forcing him to look at her.  "You will never be a pirate, William." She spoke softly but urgently, hoping to make the young boy understand.  "Piracy will never be what you search for.  Promise me that, Will."_

_The urgency in his mother's eyes took Will aback, but he nonetheless nodded, hugging his mother as he spoke, hoping to reassure her.  "No, I won't Mother."  His face had crumpled in an expression of confusion at his mother's worry._

_She shook her head, not releasing his face from her gentle hands.  "**Promise me, child." Her voice was strained as she pleaded this from her only son.**_

_The boy, frightened and confused, blinked back tears that burned in his eyes.  Why was his mother acting like this?  Determined to make things better, he nodded fiercely, ignoring the tight hold that his mother still had on his cheeks.  "I promise." He whispered voicelessly, covering Theresa's hands with his own._

_As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Theresa tightly wrapped the boy into a hug, a tear of relief slipping down her pale cheek._

Will gripped the hat tightly, his throat constricting at the emotions of the memory.  Not until now had he understood why his mother was so upset over his statement.  Now he knew.  She found out that his father had taken up the life of a pirate and did not want her son to become the same.  And yet, here he was, prepared to take on yet another act of piracy.  How many times would he break the promise that he made to his mother?  More importantly, how badly did he really want to keep that promise that he made so long ago?  

Standing up suddenly, Will grabbed other clothes from about the room and went about changing.  What did it matter anymore?  His mother was dead, his father was dead, and one of the only friends he ever knew was about to be killed.  And Elizabeth?  The thought of loosing her nearly was enough to kill him.  Will pulled a black leather belt around his stomach and firmly cinched it, then quickly he reached back to the bed and took the cloak and fastened it about his shoulders.  No longer did it swirl about his feet in piles, but instead hung several inches above the ground – a perfect fit.  The hat also fit to his head seamlessly, as though he was born to wear it.  

As he made a move to exit the room, he paused.  This was his last chance to think through what he was about to do.  This was his last chance to change his mind.  His answer, however, came quickly and he knew that there was no turning around.  It was time for him to decide, but deep down he knew that his decision had been made long ago.  Placing a hand on the hilt of his sword, Will dashed from the room and headed to the gallows.

The early morning sun had just broken the horizon.  Far too early for this sort of thing, or at least in Jack Sparrow's opinion it was.  He glanced disdainfully at the looped noose that swung tauntingly back and forth in front of him.  The pirate was fighting the urge to release a largely over exaggerated yawn.  This situation was quickly growing old and tedious.  The captain had lost count of the number of times that he had stood in this rather uncompromising position on top of the gallows.  But then again perhaps he never had really been keeping track either.  

Jack cast a gaze across the swarms of people that had gathered to view this apparently joyous event.  The captain begged to differ at that rather skewed point of view.  His dark rimmed eyes landed on a slightly disgusted looking Ms. Elizabeth Swann.  He felt it was appropriate to give the young woman her dues, for she had fought for his release until the moment when they had locked him away into the jails.  Will Turner, surprisingly, had snuck soundlessly away and no one knew where he had gone to.  Jack had a sneaking suspicion that the son of Bootstrap was planning something typically stupid.  Jack truly hoped that it was nothing like the plans of good old Bootstrap himself.  For all of the man's excellent pirating qualities, escapes were not one of them.  Disastrous would be the more appropriate term, Jack mused.

"Jack Sparrow, be it known…" The nauseatingly prim voice of the official cut through Jack's thoughts as the grim ceremony began.  

An aggravated sigh escaped the pirate and he rolled his eyes briefly heavenward, not amused by these people's inability to recognize rank when they saw it.  "Captain.  _Captain_ Jack Sparrow." Was it really that hard to simply add that uncomplicated prefix to the beginning of his name?

Either the official did not hear Jack or he chose to ignore the irritated comment from the doomed man.  He simply continued talking, listing off the many offences of Jack Sparrow.  "…for your willful commission of crimes against the crown.  Said crimes being numerous in quantity and sinister in nature.  The most grievous of these to be cited herewith: piracy, smuggling…"

This time a yawn did escape Jack and he easily ignored the blatant stare from the executioner.  Executioner.  What a dismal title.  Perhaps the man would lead a more optimistic life as a pirate.  Jack certainly believed this to be the truth behind the matter.  A little piracy was all one needed to get a real rush out of life.

Throughout this train of thought, the official had simply continued listing Jack's numerous crimes.  The pirate tuned in briefly to hear several of his personal favorites.  "Impersonating an officer of the Spanish Royal Navy…" Bloody good time, that was.

"…impersonating a cleric of the Church of England…"  Jack was sure that he could detect a slight snivel in the man's voice as he told of that one.

A smile snuck onto Jack's face as he remembered the enjoyable times that he incurred while staying in the English church.  "Oh, yes…"  Those nuns were never to be the same again.  What had been his purpose in doing that again?  Oh bloody hell, what was the difference anyway?  He was sure that originally he had a good principle for the whole state of affairs.

If it were possible, the executioner's expression grew even darker at the smug smirk that had appeared on his soon-to-be hung prisoner.  Jack, in order to amend the entire situation, shrugged helplessly and gave the man an apologetic smile.  Dark eyes stared back coldly, flatly rejecting the warm gesture.  

Shrugging again, Jack averted his attention back to the official who was gallantly concluding his speech.  "And for these crimes you have been sentenced to be, on this day, hung by the neck until dead.  May God have mercy on your soul."  

The pirate had a sneaking suspicion that the official really could have cared less regarding the immediate care and concerns regarding his soul.  Jack also wondered how else one could be hung by the neck, if not until dead?  Perhaps hung until mildly winded?  That sounded infinitely more promising.  Resignedly, Jack let out a breath as the executioner slipped the noose around his neck.  The coarse rope rubbed at his throat.

Jack looked up to the skies, enjoying their open freedom one last time before the bottom dropped from beneath him.  The sound of the drums pounded into the pirates skull and he fought to block them out.  The salty aroma of the sea taunted the pirate, and a brief flitter of sadness swept over Jack, knowing that he would never chase the horizon again.  

His gaze turned downward and he stared out into the crowd.  The eagerness for his death shone in their eyes.  And they called _him_ a bloodthirsty pirate.  He begged to differ.  A quick movement through the throngs of people caught Jack's diverted attention and he stared as he saw an…incredibly flamboyant hat pushing through the crowds.  He paused, studying it carefully.  He had seen that hat before.  He _knew that hat!  The sudden shout through the crowd quickly affirmed his suspicions._

"Move!" Will Turner's voice ripped through the crowds and people quickly scrambled to get out of the desperate boy's way.

The last thing Jack saw before the platform beneath him dropped away was Will's sword hurtling toward him.  _Well, isn't that just bloody fantastic. _

Then everything turned into pandemonium. 

**TBC…**


	8. Chapter Eight

Author's Note: Here we are!  Chapter Eight at last…however, I will inform you now that this indeed did not end up being the final chapter.  Amazing how I can never keep a story down to what I want it to be.  Oh well, that just means one more chapter for you all then.  I'm cranking these out as fast as I can, but with college papers and evil oceanography tests, and many other distractions and interferences, my delivery time gets significantly slowed down.  But don't worry, I will ALWAYS deliver!  Lol.  So without any further ado, here is chapter eight!  (If you want a disclaimer, check out some previous chapters…)

**Failing Hope**

Chapter Eight

Written By and © by Pinto

Will's breath caught as the floor of the gallows dropped out abruptly beneath the pirate captain.  To the younger man's utter and complete relief, Jack managed to place some weight onto the carefully aimed sword that Will had thrown there only moments before.  The pirate's face was skewed up in total concentration as he fought to remain on the thin blade that held him between life and death.

          Shocked by the sudden turn of events, a high-pitched scream of a woman threw the entire crowd into a stampede mentality and people began to try to dash in different directions, obviously displeased with the entire turn of events.  Will was nearly thrown to the ground as a large man barreled directly into him.  The blacksmith stumbled, seething inside as the man continued on, not even bothering to look back.  There was no time for this.  Will spun around and began shoving his way through the panicked crowds.  He had to get to Jack and he had to get there fast before the weak hold of the embedded sword gave way, sending the captain to his death.  

          Shouts of indignation met Will's ears as he pummeled his way through the throngs of people, but he had no time to stop and apologize.  Upon reaching the wooden gallows, the dark haired blacksmith raced up the steps, his feet pounding heavily against the weathered timbers.  The sound of the redcoat soldiers racing in the direction of the scaffold prodded Will to move faster.  As he sprinted across the surface, he threw his right hand up, holding his sword in a defensive position.  Metal clashed loudly against metal as he countered a blow from the executioner, who stood, prepared for Will's attack.  The hard blow sent a wave of pain up the blacksmith's arm but he simply gritted his teeth and struck back.

          "Give it up, boy." The gravelly deep voice of the executioner mocked the fierce-faced Will Turner.

          Narrowing his eyes, Will drove forcefully down with another stroke, grinding his teeth in fury.  "Never.  I will not lose everything to this day, not while I have the power to stop this injustice."

          The blow, fueled by the pure passion of the blacksmith's will, sent the executioner's own sword clattering onto the wood, skittering a few feet before plunging heavily to the ground.  The large man had no time to contemplate his next move as Will lashed out with a practiced foot, unbalancing the man and sending him down to join his sword.  

          "Now would be good.  Very good, as a matter of fact." Jack suddenly spoke up, still twisting about precariously.  His voice was strained and he appeared more than a little ready to end his balancing act.

          Tightly rewrapping his hands around the hilt of his sword, Will expertly swung the blade out and cleanly cut the rope that looped around the pirate's throat.  Jack instantly dropped to the ground, collapsing to his knees.  A moment later, the pirate regained his footing and roughly yanked the noose from around his neck in annoyance.  He rubbed briefly at the irritated skin where the coarse rope had chafed.

          His dark eyes traveled over to where Will had just landed, after the younger man completed an acrobatic leap from the gallows.  The blacksmith slowly stood up from his crouched position and quickly glanced over to where Jack stood.

          "Are you all right?" Will's voice was filled with genuine concern.  That had been far too close for his personal tastes.

          "Aye, that I am.  I've had closer calls than that, boy, namely at the hands of the Tortuga women." Jack paused and looked at Will, a smile tugging at his mouth.  "But that was far close enough.  Thank ye for the help.  Didn't know _exactly_ how I was going to get my onesies out of that situation."

          Will emitted a short laugh, nervously glancing out at the masses of people.  "I wouldn't exactly say we're quite out of it yet."   The redcoat soldiers had begun to join in formations, organizing themselves in preparation of any escape effort.

          The pirate looked carefully at the scene that had begun to unfold in front of them and began to work out a plan of his own.  Abruptly he looked over to the blacksmith and motioned toward the noose at his feet.  "Grab the rope." He murmured, jerking his head in the direction of the severed noose.

          Turning away from the crowd, Will looked toward the pirate and blinked slowly as though Jack's command had not registered properly in his mind.  He glanced down at the rope that lay limply by his feet and looked back up again to Jack, questions written all over his face.

          Growling in frustration, Jack quickly took the rope into his hands and shook it slightly, hoping that maybe a visual demonstration would help Will register what it was that needed to be done.  "Pick it up!" He raised his eyebrows, glancing from Will to the rope.  At least he knew that Will definitely inherited his father's stubborn, conventional thinking.  Why must everyone question him incessantly?  There surely must be some written rule regarding the disobedience of people to a man carrying captain status.  "C'mon, boy, we haven't all bloody week!"

          Snapping out of his confusion, Will quickly took the rope into his hands and looked over, ready to follow the pirate captain's lead.  The blacksmith was unsure of Jack's plan, but it surely must be better than anything that Will could come up with, which, at the moment, was nothing.  Looking at the converging soldiers, slowly Jack's plan began to dawn on Will.  An empty smile crawled onto his face and he prepared to run.

          With a simple nod of his head, Jack set the two of them into motion.  Will stared straight ahead and raced toward the approaching soldiers, his feet pounding against the dusty earth.  The rope swung loosely between the two men, and only when they were close to the soldiers did they pull it taut.  Will locked his arms tightly when the long noose jerked roughly backward as it caught the men by their midsections, sending them crashing to the ground.  A wild laugh escaped Will and he grinned animatedly at Jack, who returned the look.  They were going to make it.  They were really going to make it this time. 

          The blacksmith turned his attention forward and focused on the looming stairs and the soldiers that stood sturdily at the top.  A huge alabaster column jutted up from the concrete at the top of the stairway, instantly giving Will an idea.  Not slowing down for the quick incline the duo practically flew up the stairs, trying to dodge the razor-sharp bayonets that were thrust toward them.  One caught Will's loose sleeve and ripped through the material, creating a jagged cut down the younger man's arm as it tore into vulnerable skin.  Blood slowly seeped out of it, staining the soft white cotton of the shirt in a crimson bloom.  Will hissed out a pained breath, but didn't stop moving.

          As they reached the pillar, the blacksmith and pirate quickly moved behind it and yanked fiercely on the rough rope, effectively slamming all those unlucky enough to be within its range into the opposite side of the column.  Will released a gasp as his arm screamed in burning protest to the action, but he quickly gritted his teeth, determined to ignore the growing deep red stain.  

          Noticing the slight delay, Jack quickly glanced back to Will, immediately noticing the slash that decorated the younger man's upper arm.  "You gonna be okay, mate?" He quickly questioned, realizing that it did not matter.  If they stopped now, it would be right back to the gallows, but this time Will would be standing next to Jack.  The pirate highly disliked that idea.  Bootstrap would have killed him if he knew that Jack had caused his only son to be hung like a common criminal.  

          With a renewed spark of determination, Jack lightly pulled on Will's uninjured arm, pointed to two unaware guards, and jerked his head toward their swords.  Almost instantaneously, Will's eyes lit up and a smile briefly flashed across his face.  Running forward as one, the two men quickly took down the two soldiers easily, seized their swords, and ran forward, wielding them wildly.

          Unfortunately, as the duo rounded the next corner, they found themselves headed off by a great number of soldiers – a number far too large ever to consider taking on in battle.  Will quickly backed off first, headed back in the direction from which they had come.  Jack still stood, staring at the men who blocked his escape.  Bloody hell.  He moved to follow the young blacksmith, but ran into him, back to back.

          "They're on this side too." Will's voice shook quietly as they both held their swords up defensively.  

          Jack moved to the right, spinning about, and Will moved in synchronicity with the pirate as they remained back to back.  Once facing the other direction, Jack realized the hopelessness of the situation.  They were surrounded by what could be hundreds of soldiers.  Five or ten would have been a feasible task, but this number was utterly unmanageable, even for Captain Jack Sparrow.

          Jack took a moment to quickly glance over his shoulder and look at the blacksmith.  "You wouldn't happen to have any more brilliant escapes in mind by chance, would you?"

          Closing his eyes briefly to try and mask the pain that the gash on his arm caused, Will quickly responded.  "No, this was about it.  It's your turn to figure something out."

          Before Jack could consider his response to the sarcastic tone in the younger man's voice, his attention was diverted as the soldiers to his left side began to part.  The pirate's dark eyes focused on the figure that made his way through the opening, a clear swagger defining his steps.  Jack sighed in annoyance.  Of course, it just had to be bloody _Commodore Norrington.  _

          Norrington stopped once he reached the front of the surrounding circle and had a clear view of the two trapped escapees.  He made the effort and raised a single eyebrow in clear disdain.  His eyes lingered on Jack for a moment but quickly traveled over to Will Turner.

          "I thought we might have to endure some manner of ill conceived escape attempt…" He paused, looking at the disheveled younger man.  "…but not from you."

          Jack could tell that Will's strength wavered on a thin thread, but the blacksmith raised his chin defiantly.  He tried to hide his pain and exhaustion, but his breath came in erratic gasps, and the extra material of his shirt clung to his damp skin.  The ripped sleeve had turned an impressive shade of red by now, but the young man made a commendable attempt to push the pain aside.  Will felt a sick churning in his stomach as Elizabeth's father pushed his way to the front, his displeasure evident on his face.  He could face the condescending attitude of Norrington, but to be shamed by Elizabeth's father would hurt him more than he would let on.

          Shaking a hand in the air, Governor Swann struggled for several moments to try to place his thoughts into words.  The words that finally came out where sharp and piercing.  "On our return to Port Royal, I granted you clemency and this is how you thank me?  By throwing in your lot with him?" The white haired man took a moment to point stridently to the perplexed looking Jack Sparrow.  "He's a pirate!"

          Will stared at the governor for a moment, realizing the truth in his words.  Elizabeth's father had taken a large chance by allowing clemency for someone who was blatantly involved with any sort of piracy, and he had done so for Will.  However, there was no way that Will could have ever simply allowed Jack to be hung as though none of the previous events of the past few days had occurred.  It was simply wrong!  There was no two ways around the reality.  It was time for Will to stand up for what he _really_ believed in.

          "And a good man." The words came from him almost without his consent, but the moment that he heard them ring in the air, he knew that he said the right thing.  Out of the corner of his eye, Will could see Jack raise his eyebrows proudly and point to himself, just incase any of those watching mistook Will's compliment as if it were intended for another pirate about to be hung.  The young man's dark eyes traveled to where Elizabeth had managed to push her way through the crowd.  Her large eyes spoke a million words.  Don't do it.

          Sighing, Will continued.  Yes, he loved Elizabeth dearly, but he couldn't see the justice in allowing this cruel day to continue anymore.  He had already lost Elizabeth – there was only one more thing left for him to loose, and he was prepared to sacrifice.

          "If all I have achieved here is that the hangman will earn two pairs of boots instead of one, so be it."  He paused, swallowing with difficultly as Elizabeth silently pleaded with him to stop.  No.  There was no stopping now.  "At least my conscience will be clear."  The young man nearly jumped as Jack slapped a reassuring hand on his uninjured shoulder.

          Norrington's eyes shone with a dangerous light and his nostrils flared slightly.  "You forget your place, Turner."  Will saw how tightly the commodore gripped the hilt of his sword, and he slowly looked the man in the face.

          For so long he had been held back by 'his place' and the restraints of an unfair society.  And for so long, he had backed down to the authority that demanded him back into the gutters of social order.  However, he refused to allow himself to be beaten down again.  Never again.  "It's right here, between you and Jack." He spoke with a confidence that lacked within him.  

          Elizabeth stared wildly at her true love.  What was he doing?  Norrington was bound to hang him now and there would be no way to stop this horrific chain of events.  She searched Will's face desperately and saw that for the first time, there was a light of accomplishment within him.  Her resolve broke down.  He had finally found himself at last.  For so long he had scuttled along in life, allowing other to beat him down, but now he was finally willing to stand up for something.

          Shoving away those who stood protectively around her, she forced her way forward, making her way to Will's side.  She softly smiled as Will's eyes widened in surprise when she took her place alongside him.  She could nearly hear the endless questions that were running rampantly through his mind, but she did not have the time to put any of them to ease right now.  She tightly wrapped her hand within the blacksmith's, wincing when she saw the wound on his arm.  

          Elizabeth turned her gaze back to the startled commodore and swallowed before speaking.  "As is mine." She faintly squeezed Will's rough hand as she spoke.  She had lived under her society's oppressive rules for far too long and she refused to heed their call any longer.  It was time to follow her own heart, and that led her here.  

          The governor jolted in astonishment as his only daughter threw herself into the middle of the potentially deadly situation.  "Elizabeth!" The words escaped him before he even thought about saying them.  The young lady looked back at him with eyes begging for understanding, begging for his support.  When he broke the gaze, he realized that all the soldiers still stood with their weapons loaded, pointed, and ready to shoot.

          "Lower your weapons!" He threw his hands around, emphasizing the urgency of the command.  When the men did not respond immediately, his tone grew even more frantic.  "For heavens sake, put them down!"

          With the metallic clatter of barrel hitting barrel, the weapons were slowly released from their targeted position.  Governor Swann slumped in physical relief, glad at the very least to know that his daughter was no longer in danger of being killed by a stray bullet.  Elizabeth stood proudly by Will's side, her petite chin raised in finality regarding her decision.  The governor knew at that moment that her mind was made up.

          Apparently, the commodore was having a more difficult time understanding that the governor's daughter had determined her future.  He stepped forward, his usually strong face suddenly filled with confusion and sadness.  "So this is where your heart truly lies then?"  He spoke softly, wanting to reach out to the woman that he honestly did care so much for.  It hurt him genuinely to see her with the blacksmith that he considered an upstart.  However, he would not deny the one he cared for the happiness she deserved. 

          Elizabeth blinked, easily seeing the hurt deep within Norrington's eyes.  While she did not love him, neither did she wish to bring pain upon him.  "It is." Her voice hardly rose above a whisper, and she bit down lightly on her lower lip.  

          The blacksmith could tell that Elizabeth felt bad for doing such a thing to the commodore, so he simply ran his finger over her soft knuckles, trying to give her strength.  Yes, Norrington had been cruel to him in the past, but Will was not a hateful man and even he felt remorse for the man.  

          At this time, Jack decided that it would be a convenient time to break into the moment.  "Well!" He began, smiling broadly and clapping his hands together.  "I'm actually feeling rather good about this."  All the attention was switched over to the pirate.

          Taking a few steps forward, Jack moved until he was directly in the governor's face, much to the man's destitution.  "I think we've all arrived at a very special place, eh?"  He waved a hand off to the side to illustrate himself.  "Spiritually, ecumenically…" He moved even closer, saying the next word a little more breathy than necessary. "…grammatically?" Elizabeth's father physically cringed away from the dirty pirate.

          Shrugging, Jack stumbled over to the commodore and slapped a weathered hand onto his shoulder, looking at him remorsefully.  "I want you to know that I was rooting for you, mate." He pointed purposefully at him.  "Know that."

          With a confident swagger in his step, Jack began to move toward the ledge of the cliff area where they stood.  He suddenly stopped and turned around, giving Elizabeth a genuine look of care.  "Elizabeth…" He stopped, causing her to look curiously at him.  "It never would have worked between us.  I'm sorry." The look that he received on account of that statement nearly made the entire pause worthwhile.  He turned to leave again, ready to desert Port Royal.

          Will watched quietly, still holding Elizabeth's hand.  As Jack continued toward the ledge, Will felt his stomach twist in hurt.  So, that was it.  The pirate was going to leave without another word to him.   Will detachedly wondered if Jack even knew that he had been the closest thing to a real friend that he ever had.  Or had he?  Will's eyes turned down when he realized that Jack probably hadn't even really ever cared too much.  It just would have been nice to have someone who gave a damn beyond Elizabeth.

          "Will." The sudden voice of Jack made the young blacksmith jerk his head up with amazing speed.  His eyes met the kohl-rimmed, intense gaze of the pirate.

          A smile spread across Jack's features, and a look of realization flashed across his face.  "Nice hat."  He tipped his head, and then quickly turned to move to the stone ledge.

          The younger man felt his jaw tighten at that statement, trying to control his feelings.  Jack knew that the hat belonged to Will's father; the smile had confirmed his recognition.  Nevertheless, there had been something else in his face, something that spoke of this not being the end.  A part of Will wanted to run and leave, never to look back.  The sudden warmth of Elizabeth's soft arm resting against his made him quickly change his mind, however.  He couldn't leave.

          Finally, Jack reached the ledge and turned around, holding his hands up in effort to gain the attention of all those standing.  "Men!"  Every head turned to look at him, but he quickly picked Will out from the crowd.  He could read the confusion in the younger man's gaze and he hoped that Bootstrap's son had picked up the meaning in his statement.  _I'll_ be coming back, boy.  This isn't the end._  _

          Still backing up, Jack continued his speech.  "This is the day that you will always remember as the day that you…" However, the moving speech made it no further as the pirate stumbled upon hitting the barrier of the rock wall.  With highly ungraceful reactions, Jack tumbled over the edge of the battlement, much in the fashion of Elizabeth Swann. 

          Will jerked slightly forward, seeing Jack tumble from the high cliff into the dangerous waters below.  _Run!_ His mind screamed, and he felt the strong urge to listen to it.  _This is your chance for freedom!_ The blacksmith stared blankly at the now empty ledge and swallowed roughly, his heart hammering heavily in his chest.  The sea called to him like never before and he wanted nothing more than to answer its summon.  The salty breeze brushed through his hair and he closed his eyes, trying to repress the swell of emotion within.

          The soft touch of Elizabeth's fingers on his face caused the young Turner to open his eyes again and he looked down at her.  She glanced with concern at his bleeding arm but he brushed her worry away when he took her hand into his own.  Looking away from Elizabeth, Will's eyes traveled back to the vast horizon of the ocean, and he felt the longing pull from within him again.  The time had come.  It was time to make his decision.  He turned back to Elizabeth, torn between the two worlds that called to him.

**TBC**

Additional Author's Note: Muhaha.  I leave you here to hang…will I remain true to cannon or will I change the course of Caribbean history?  There's only one way to find out…(yes, shameless plug, I know) and that is to tune in for the next and FINAL chapter of Failing Hope, coming soon, hopefully!  Thanks for reading and please take the time to review!  :-)     


	9. Chapter Nine

Author's Note: Adieu, adieu, parting is such sweet sorrow!  Lol, okay as you may have guessed, I have finally reached the end of my little excursion.  Seeing as it was originally meant to only be two or three chapters…*glares at incriminating six remaining chapters*…I think this progressed with a life of its own, very much in thanks to all of those who reviewed.  I hope everyone enjoys this last installment of Failing Hope!  With nothing else remaining, here is the final chapter!

**Failing Hope**

Chapter Nine

The crash of the ocean waves against the stone wall sent a salty breeze careening across the surface of the granite ground.  Will looked away from the sea, the cry of the gulls echoing in his mind like a faint call to arms.  His attention turned back to Elizabeth who stood looking expectantly at him.  Her hand moved up and gingerly covered the bleeding gash in his arm.  He winced involuntarily but put a forced smile on in order to cover the pain.  

          Chaos still reigned in regards to Jack's sudden departure and conflict ensued between the ranks of the army.  None could decide what course of action should be followed.  Norrington strode about, trying to hide the pain that emanated from within because of Elizabeth's rejection.  His job as commodore overrode personal pain and problems; right now, that job demanded that he restore order to his men.

          Something resonated painfully from inside of Will as the mournful cry of a seagull reached his ears again and he turned his head back toward the ocean's endless expanse of blue.  Dark hair clung to the sides of his face and he took a step forward, still staring out at the sea.  It sparkled with unsullied brilliance, like a newly carved diamond.  It mesmerized him.   

          "Will?" Elizabeth spoke softly and moved next to the young blacksmith.  Her eyes searched his face in concern.

          He turned back to her, desperately fighting off the call that the salty breeze sent to him.  He would not abandon everything now.  There was so much that could simply be waiting here for him.  But…there could be so much waiting out there for him too.

          A sad smile spread across Elizabeth's face as she looked into his distant eyes.  Her hand traveled up, resting on his cheek.  Breaking out of his daze, he looked down at Elizabeth, forcing a shaky smile on his face.  

          Suddenly she threw herself tightly into an embrace with him, holding him tightly for several seconds before falling back slightly.  She softly kissed him on the lips, and after a moment of shock, he returned the gesture, wrapping his arms around her slight form.  Pulling back, she bit down on her lip, bringing a hand up and wiping lightly at her eyes.  

          Will looked curiously at her, suddenly realizing that she was fighting away tears.  "Elizabeth?" He moved toward her, only to have her step back.  "What's wrong?" A sickening feeling twisted within him.  The look on Elizabeth's face caused his own expression to melt into one of confusion and apprehension.

          "Go." Her voice was hardly a whisper, but he could hear the strength underlying it.  "This is your chance.  Please go." She quickly looked away as a tear escaped the corner of her eye and slid down her cheek.

          The blacksmith's jaw opened and closed a few times before any sound came out.  "What?  Elizabeth, what are you saying?"

          The dark-haired woman looked up again, the sheen of tears reflecting the pale light of the sun.  "I know that it calls to you, Will.  I cannot ask you to stay for me.  Go to the sea, you will have a better life there." The words could have been spoken harshly, but a sense of honestly underlay them.

          Will, completely dumbfounded, struggled to grasp her words.  "I don't understand.  I don't – " 

          His words were cut off by her fingers lightly touching his lips.  "Don't try to understand.  Just feel, Will.  I can see it in your eyes.  Come back again someday." Her sentences were short and she worked to keep her tears under control.  Hugging him tightly again, her lips brushed past his ear and she whispered so quietly that Will had to struggle to hear the words.  "Find your father." 

          As quickly as the embrace began, it ended and Elizabeth pushed him gently toward the edge of the battlement, making herself pointedly clear.  Will was still stunned by the sudden change of events, and most of all by Elizabeth's last statement, but he walked robotically forward until he reached the edge of the cliff.  He reached forward, let his hands rest on the cool gray stones of the short barrier, and turned his gaze outward.  Something tucked behind the confines of a distant cliff caught his eye and he focused on it.  Its helm was the only thing that showed, but Will realized that he knew what it was.  It was the Black Pearl, but this time it was once again Jack's Pearl.  

          Overwhelmed by the choice placed in front of him, Will turned back to look at Elizabeth again.  No longer did she hide her tears, but they cascaded freely down her pale cheeks now.  "Please…" She choked out, looking back nervously to where the military was beginning to become organized. "Go now, Will, or it will be too late."

          When he hesitated still, she firmed her stance and looked directly at him.  "William Turner, I am not asking.  I will see you again, but you must leave now."

          Nodding, Will numbly climbed to the top of the battlement and looked down at the water below him.  It sparkled merrily in the sun's rays, almost asking him to come and join in its bliss.  His dark eyes traveled back up to look at Elizabeth.  "I love you, Elizabeth.  I always will."

          She nodded curtly, trying to keep more tears from falling.  "And I you, Will Turner."  A painful lump in her throat cut off any more words from escaping her.  She held both hands to her lips and then extended them out toward Will, who returned the gesture in kind.  The winds swirled around him, blowing his hair wildly about.

          "Hey!  You!  Stop him!" A cry from the slowly organizing crowds recognized the fact that Will had been noticed.  Will glanced back to Elizabeth wildly, knowing that this was the end.  "Not another step!" The voice demanded again, moving closer to where Will balanced precariously on the battlement.

          "Go now, Will! Go!" Elizabeth cried out to him, praying that he would go now.  If he were caught now, the chance of him being hung was too high of a risk for her to take.  She could see the torn look on his face, but he could not think now, he had to act!  _Just go!_

          Another strong breeze pressed against the blacksmith's lean frame and he breathed in deeply, letting the ocean's scent fill his lungs.  With a final glance toward Elizabeth, Will shoved himself away from the battlement and plummeted freely toward the awaiting waves of the ocean and toward the awaiting sovereignty.

          Snapping upright in bed, Will blinked several times, trying to clear his sleep-blurred vision.  He breathed deeply a few times, trying to calm his racing heart.  A single ray of dusty morning light streamed in through a crack in the window shutter, reminding Will that it was time for him to be up anyway.  

          He pushed the thin covers away from his legs and swung them to hang over the side of the creaking bed.  His elbows leaned on his legs and he allowed his head to fall into his hands.  Dark locks of hair tumbled forward, covering his face completely.  It had just been a dream.  But this was not the first time that the dream had come, and every time he woke up more confused than the last.  Its realism grew with each appearance, and it was getting hard for Will to convince himself that it had all been conjured up in his sleep.  He could still feel the salty breeze on his face and he could still see the tears gleaming in Elizabeth's eyes.  

          Lifting his head up, Will leaned down under the bed and retrieved a familiar looking wooden box.  He opened it with a creak and simply looked at the cape and hat that still were tucked away within.  He had wished so hard that after that day that perhaps things were really going to change.  He had actually thought that things might truly work out and he and Elizabeth could make a future for one another.

          However, the fates had other plans in mind when Will made the decision to stay in Port Royal.  After the emotion of that day faded with the slow setting of the Caribbean sun, so did the amiability that had coexisted within it.  The governor, unable to accept that his daughter had chosen a blacksmith's apprentice, had put her in near house arrest.  Will, still stuck with the duties of the blacksmith shop, rarely saw her anymore.  Once again they were stuck on the polar opposite ends of society with no way to bridge the gap.  It was hopeless.  

          Forcing himself to stand up and get dressed, Will retrieved his grungy work clothes and slipped into them.  With blatant disregard, he pulled his hair back in order to avoid setting his head afire while working in the forge.  He nearly blanched at the thought of another day stuck in the isolation of the blacksmith shop.  It was so tiresome, day after day having no contact with anyone but the swords made by one's own hands.  Giving a resigned sigh, Will left his room in the loft and descended down to the actual work area of the blacksmith shop.  

          As he moved through the open area, he made his way purposefully over to the mule who lay bedded in his small stall.  Will leaned on the door and looked at the animal, who stared back at him with a disdainful gaze.  "C'mon now, bud, time to get up."

          Eyeing the blacksmith for a moment, the animal responded with a negative grunt, clearly communicating that he had no current plans that involved getting up.  Will's stare hardened and he stood up a little straighter.  "I'm in no mood for your bloody lazy spell.  Now up with you." When he received no response from the comfortably situated mule, Will resorted to the only thing he knew that would stimulate the creature.  Reaching over, he lifted a large bucket and shook it, making its contents rattle enticingly.  "I've got oats."

          The mule's ears perked up and it instantly seemed to be thrice times interested in what the human was saying.  A suspicious gleam still lingered in the animal's eyes, and he seemed hesitant to believe the dark-haired human in front of him.

          Rolling his eyes, Will reached into the bucket and held out a handful of the oats to prove his claim to the animal.  "Do you believe me now?" He lowered his arm, waving it back and forth slowly.  With a groan, the mule slowly rose, the scent of the oats growing to be too alluring for it to ignore.  It took only a few steps for it to reach Will's extended hand and the mule nuzzled his warm nose into the oats, crunching contentedly.  

          As the last of the oats disappeared, Will moved his hand and softly scratched behind the mule's large ears.  "At least it doesn't take much to make one of us happy." The animal grunted in agreement and tossed its head approvingly.  The blacksmith patted the animal's neck before turning away to go check the fire in the forge.

          As he neared the powerful heat that emitted from the brightly burning fire, Will stopped, his eyes searching the area suspiciously.  Everything seemed to be in place, yet somehow he felt as though something were amiss.  Moving slowly over to an anvil, the blacksmith let his hand rest upon it.  He jerked when his hand crinkled a piece of paper, causing it to rustle noisily.

          "What is this?" Will murmured softly, smoothing out the piece of paper with his hands on the smooth surface of the anvil.  He pulled the parchment out from beneath the heavy hammer that had held it in place and brought it up closer to his face.  The writing was slanted and the penmanship was in kinship with that of a three-year old's writing ability.  Only by squinting and turning the paper around a few times was the blacksmith able to begin to make out the scribbled words, some which bled messily down the crumpled paper.

          "William Turner," The young man began, speaking in a halted manner as he struggled to make out the words. "Just wanted to let ya know that…" Will paused again, sighing in audible frustration at the cluttered words. "…ye haven't seen the last of me yet.  Debts do not go unpaid, and I owe ye."  

          Blinking to clear his vision, Will felt uneasiness growing in his stomach.  Who was sending him this message?  Rubbing his eyes, the blacksmith dove back into the message, determined to discover its sender.  "Keep yer eyes open.  Captain Jack Sparrow." 

          The fire crackled loudly in the forge and Will looked up, processing the letter in its entirety.  A new feeling replaced the twisting dread in his stomach, and he realized with some suspicion that it was a feeling of excitement and eagerness.  

          With nimble hands, Will carefully folded the message and slid it into his vest pocket, wanting to keep it near, just to make sure that it was real.  Maybe things weren't going to be as bleak as he originally thought after all.

          "Maybe I have a chance to finally do things right." He whispered, looking toward the high, small windows – his only connection to everything outside.  Will moved over to his sword hold and grabbed a semi-finished blade and swung it in several practiced arcs, the long blade loudly slicing through the heavy air.  With a sigh, he lowered it, looking at its unfinished blade.  A small smile crept onto his face and without another thought, he thrust the metal foil into the licking, hungry flames.  It was never too late to do things the right way, in any case.  

**The End**

Author's Note: Ah yes, this is indeed the end.  I took the liberty to go a little further than the movie did, and for good reason.  (At least *I* think it good reason!) I set it up in the manner that I think the second PotC movie would go, and I've tossed around the idea of creating my own screenplay version of the second movie.  I have a few ideas, and I'm still thinking about it, so maybe in the future I'll post something along those lines.  In any case, a big thanks to all of those who have read and reviewed this entire time.  I've appreciated it so much!  In the final words of Jack Sparrow: Drink up me hearties, yo-ho!


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